


World Enough, and Time

by officersun524



Category: Farscape, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 97,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officersun524/pseuds/officersun524
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Farscape-SG1 crossover. It's predicated on a few what ifs: What if John and Aeryn didn't close the wormhole? What if they actually ended up in a different reality? And what if that reality included SG1?  This takes place near the end of "Bad Timing" and after the events of "Unending" (SG1).</p><p>Thanks to Skydiver of Gateworld for some very early feedback (very early). So many thanks to sarahjane, Susan, scaperfly, and Sunshine for support and beta throughout this very long process. Thanks to KNS for her friendship through the years, and all her coaching and review of my writing, and for encouraging me to continue.</p><p>EXTRA THANKS and kudos to Nymeria without whose unwavering cheerleading, willingness to ping pong ideas, artwork and encouragement I would never have finished this.</p><p>Mistakes remain mine</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can't Fight This Feeling

  **  
**

 “I have a bad feeling about this.” Vala Mal Doran stood staring up at the gate. One hand rested on the zat in her holster, the other tapped her thigh as they waited for the countdown.

“She’s got a point.” Daniel stood beside her, hands steady on the P90 slung in front of him.

“Oh, everyone, did you hear that? He agreed with me. Mark this day.” She turned to him, waiting for a reproachful raised eyebrow

Or, better yet, that look she’d seen on him more and more: It lasted a beat too long, like he was trying to match her face with a name. Something or someone he was trying to remember...

_Oh, stop. None of us remembered anything..._

Instead, he stared straight ahead, mouth set in a thin line, his gaze fixed on the Stargate. None of this should have surprised her--not her possibly unfounded fears, not his increased thoughtfulness.

Nothing new there, not since they’d returned from the Odyssey after losing the memory of fifty years.

 _Life is too short,_ she’d said. The brief, sharp look he’d given her at the foot of the gate had lingered in her mind, teasing her with questions. What had happened for fifty years? What had happened between them?

Teal’c knew. She hadn’t asked about Daniel at all, preferring to imagine what might have been. One look from him might have given it all away. That should have answered her question, about how her life had gone from curious to curiouser, but not even a lost lifetime was superseding the butterflies in her stomach.

“What is wrong with you two? You guys have been squirrelly for a couple of weeks now.” Mitchell turned to them, wearing that eager grin he got every time they went on a mission.

“Squirrelly? Does that mean my behavior is akin to a small, burrowing creature?” She shook her head and readjusted the back pack she carried.

The movement seemed to rouse Daniel from his reverie. He turned to her in annoyance. “Why is your pack so large?” he said.

“Ooh, I thought you’d never notice.”

Mitchell stifled a laugh, Sam looked away discreetly, and even Teal’c smiled. Daniel took two steps to where she stood, then slid behind her, tugging on the back pack until he had it open. Was he just glad to have something to fixate on other than her nerves or his own?

“Hair dryer? Really? Do you have anything of actual value in there?” He rummaged through it, pulled out the dryer then stuffed it back in. “Well, at least here’s something.” He held up the healing device. “Are you planning on getting hurt?”

“I never _plan_ on getting hurt.” The words were more pointed than she’d expected.

“My mistake.” Daniel dropped the item back into her pack, zipped it up then took a step away from her.

She turned to face him: _Let’s talk about it now, right now. How there had to be something in fifty years of time. How there was something that called to her from across a chasm, something she should know…_

But he’d turned away, hands back on the P90 like he was hanging on for dear life.

“Ancient tech and a curling iron,” Mitchell said. “Never leave home without ‘em, I guess.”

“Hair dryer,” she said. “And, for your information, my dear Colonel, I have no need of a curling iron.”

Carter shook her head with a smile. “Oh, ignore them, Vala. Cam, you’re as jumpy as the rest of us with that thing out there.”

‘That thing’ was something they’d never seen before, an anomaly that was visible on P3X9726 and had the locals thinking it was the wrath of the Gods. Why not? Given the Ori’s propensity for theatrics and pyrotechnics, she wouldn’t put it past them. Big, blue, swirly, like a giant tornado… General Landry was more worried about the Ori than anything else.

Mitchell shrugged. “Jumpy? Nah, not me. If she wants to carry all that crap around, let her. Anyway. Vala, what’s your guess? Don’t you want to wager what that thing is? You like a good bet.”

“I’m trying not to think about it.” She looked at Daniel. His eyes cut to her once, then he turned back to the gate.

“Sam? How about you?” Mitchell said.

“I like to wait until I have more information. What is it? How did it get there? That sort of thing.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c said.

Mitchell shook his head. “Y’all are spoiling the fun.” He glanced up at the control room where General Landry stood behind Sergeant Harriman. “We’re set, Sir.”

Vala turned as well, saw General Landry and Sergeant Harriman in deep conversation. She glanced at Sam; the colonel looked perplexed.

“Cam.” Carter motioned her head toward the control room.

“General? Are we a go?”

“Just a second, Colonel,” Landry said into the mike. “Walter?”

Harriman’s eyes were intent on the controls in front of him, then he nodded, looking satisfied. “We’re a go, Sirs.”

They started up the ramp, Sam, Mitchell, Teal’c, Daniel a pace behind.

She paused.

He turned to her, hand motioning her forward. “Come on.”

 

The other three started their entry into the blue. She nodded, followed him. Glanced over her shoulder. Landry was grabbing the mic. Her foot disappeared into the blue in front of her.

Too late.

“Colonels! Abort--” Landry’s words were garbled then silenced as the wormhole swallowed her up.

 

***

 

The gate spat them out in a tumble of guns and gear. She landed face down at the foot of the ramp--

_What were they doing in the gate room??_

She was so disoriented she thought she’d vomit. She choked back the sick feeling in her stomach. Being right didn’t make it go down any easier.

She braced herself to stand but she was pinned to the cement floor. Someone tore her back pack from her. Someone took the Zat from her holster then searched her pockets, coming up with a lip gloss she always carried.

“She’s clean!”

“What--” Her face was mashed against the floor, ending any protests. All she could see was grey cement and black boots.

Then her hands were tied behind her. She was pulled to her feet in time to see a gurney rattle past her, Teal’c at a fast pace behind it as it exited the gate room. Two men gripped her arms on either side, and two others stood in front of her, Berettas aimed at her. She looked past them at the empty doorway.

“Samantha?”

Sam was on her feet, dusting herself off while medics hovered around her. She waved them off, then gave Vala a barely perceptible head shake that warned off questions.

_Teal’c, Sam, Mitchell...who was on the stretcher?!_

“Let me go!”

“What the hell happened?” Mitchell looked at the men surrounding them then glanced up at the control room. She followed his gaze then took one step back.

What _had_ happened?

General Jack O’Neill stood with his arms crossed over his chest, Sergeant Harriman sitting reliably beside him at the gate controls. O’Neill nodded his acknowledgement at Mitchell then clapped Harriman on the shoulder.

“You can thank Harriman for that one, Colonels. That one was weird. We almost didn’t get the iris open in time. Things could have gotten messy.”

Messy? This wasn’t P3X9726, that wasn’t Landry and she wasn’t a prisoner--Was she? Oh, it had gotten messy all right.

“General, where are Jackson and Teal’c?” Mitchell had his hands on the P90 like he wasn’t going to let it go. Vala wished she’d had the same opportunity to hold on to her own weapon.

“Medical.” O’Neill put out a hand to calm them. “Daniel looked a little bloodied up but nothing to worry about.” He nodded his chin toward Vala. “Nice catch for a routine mission. I’d like to know how that one got her hands on one of our uniforms. Patch and all, I see. Sergeant, put her in the brig.”

“Samantha!” She tried to wrench away from her captors but she wasn’t getting anywhere with that.

Carter stepped forward, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her close. “We will deal with this,” she whispered, then turned and looked up at O’Neill. “Sir, I’d like to have Vala Mal Doran remain in our custody--mine and Colonel Mitchell’s. We should be in charge of the debrief.”

“Carter, I appreciate the offer but right now I’ve got bigger problems than debriefing some two bit con who likes to impersonate two bit gods. Or SG1 members.”

Vala took a deep breath. _Steady, steady..._ ”General, this really isn’t necessary.” Her wrists were already starting to chafe, her back hurt, her head hurt… She was sure she’d bruised plenty. “I’m flattered, but all these guns and troops...you really don’t need to go through the trouble. I’m willing to cooperate--”

O’Neill folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. “Get her to the brig. Give her some time to cool her heels.”

“They’re quite cool, I assure you.” Her stomach was doing flip flops but she couldn’t be sick now, as much as she wanted to.

Daniel. She had to see Daniel.

“Sir, we can handle it.” Mitchell put a hand on her arm.

“Enough!” O’Neill slapped his hand against the glass with a resounding THWAP. “Colonels, we do not have time for this bullshit. No time. Sergeant?”

O’Neill nodded his head and the men surrounded her, pulling her past Mitchell and Carter without resistance.

 

***

 

“Dr. Jackson?” A medic Daniel didn’t recognize pulled the exam room curtain aside. Daniel lay on his back, feeling like a ton of bricks had landed on his head. A bump, a bruise. At least he was conscious. Right?

Just a bruise and he was lying here in the infirmary, the rest of the team God knew where. Vala…? There’d been a scuffle off to the side of him as he’d lain on the floor…Had he seen her there too?

 _I have a bad feeling about this_...She’d never been more right.

The medic pulled the curtain further and Teal’c came into view, hands behind his back. He looked worried. Not a good sign.

“Is there something else?” Daniel said to the medic who was lingering at the foot of the bed.

“General O’Neill wants to see you both in the conference room if you’re ok, he says.”

“Fine. We are great.” Daniel sat up slowly, letting the dizziness settle itself in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath.

Teal’c held out his hand “Can I assist you?”

“No. I’m good. Airman, you can let the general know we’re on our way.”

The young woman nodded and left, closing the door behind her. He pushed up from the bed. Reached for the pitcher of water and glass beside him, poured some, took a drink. It didn’t help at all.

“Mitchell and Carter? Vala...? What’s the last thing you remember before here?”

“Entering the Stargate.”

Daniel nodded. “Me too. Vala was lagging behind…” He shook the thought away. “Any idea how we got here? What happened?”

“I do not know. Daniel Jacksobn, this is not the SGC we know. General Landry is not here. It appears O’Neill is in charge.”

Daniel put on his glasses and got to his feet. “What? How...? That medic didn’t seem too surprised to see us here--”

Teal’ shook his head. “I do not know the answer.”

“Vala?”

“She is here as well.” His voice had taken on a more somber tone.

“What.”

“I believe O’Neill has taken her prisoner.”

Prisoner. He let that wash over him for a moment. Jack O’Neill, Vala a prisoner...he rubbed his fingers over the tender spot on this head then went to the door. “Let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this--”

Teal’c grabbed his arm before Daniel could open the door. “Daniel Jackson. Before we say anything, perhaps we should consider what O’Neill has to say first.”

 

***

 

The halls and walls were familiar from the infirmary to the elevator ride to the conference room.  The flashing lights once they hit the gate room level told a different story.  Personnel were stationed outside the control room and the conference room as one of the guards stepped forward to open the door.  

Seated around the table before them were Mitchell and Sam, both looking disheveled and a little worse for the wear. Jack sat at the head of the table, his hands folded over a mission brief in front of him. His expression was a combination of relief and amusement. The room itself looked the same: Table and chairs, a computer screen mounted on the wall, the familiar SGC logo glowing from it on a blue background. But, at the base of the triangle were three letters: IOA.

That was new and not at all an improvement.  “Where’s Vala?” He closed the door behind him but didn’t move from the doorway.  Teal’c stood alongside him. 

“She’s alive, Jackson,” Mitchell said.  “Safe and sound and ready to cooperate. That’s all you need to know.” He gave one quick nod. 

Jack frowned. “’Vala’?  What’s with the first name business?”

Daniel glanced at Sam, trying to read her expression but she was keeping it neutral. 

“I knew we were onto something,” he said. Was that ambiguous enough?  “With Vala...Mal Doran.”  With Vala and what?  What had happened to her, to them all?  “Why all the flashing lights out there?”

“The Lucien Alliance seems to think they have the means to bust in here.  And since you’ve brought home their big catch, we figured better safe than sorry. But that’s small potatoes. Sit down.  IOA will be here soon and I’d like to get this over with so he can claim plausible deniability or something.”

“IOA?”  Sam echoed what was already going through Daniel’s head. 

“Carter, you’ve heard of them.  Bunch of neck-tied bureaucrats who like to pretend they’re in charge here.  We have a situation.”  He slid the mission brief to Sam--Sam, not Mitchell--then reached for the remote and clicked it at the computer screen.  The logo changed to a series of aerial photos.

“This crash landed in the Ivory Coast.  We’ve got reports that there was someone or something in the craft.  We’ve gotten it secured and transported to Area 51. There were three occupants.  We’ve retrieved one.”

Sam and Mitchell started talking over each other, both with a mix of questions and incredulity. Daniel was about to add his own but Jack held up his hand to silence them.

“In a minute. There’s this. Some swirly thing. Prometheus was able to get this image to us but we’re having some issues with communication so we don’t have much else right now.”  Jack hit the remote again, bringing up another image. This one was more familiar but no less concerning.  More, as a matter of fact.

Sam pointed at it. ‘”Swirly thing?’ Sir...?”

Jack twirled a finger in the air.  “Swirly thing.  Wormholey thing, giant blue tornado-y thing. I don’t know. That’s the problem you’re going to solve. Carter, like I said, we have one of the craft’s occupants. You and Mitchell are going to Africa to deal with getting us the other two.  Once you’ve secured the objectives, we’ll beam all of you to Prometheus.”

“Wait,” Daniel said. “Prometheus?”  

Sam shot him a warning glare but the warning was a few seconds too late.

“Yes, Daniel, Prometheus. How a big hit did that noggin of yours take anyway?” 

Daniel shook his head quickly.  “Fine, fine. I’m fine. Sam?” He raised his eyebrows at her and nodded toward the file.

Sam nodded in response then flipped through the documents.  Paused over one then closed the file. She looked from Mitchell, to Daniel, to Teal’c then, finally to Jack.  “A wormhole? And no gate. Are you connecting that--” She pointed at the computer screen.  “With the craft?  You think it came through the wormhole.” 

“Sure looks that way. NORAD caught the ship on radar around the same time we did.  We didn’t actually see it come through.  It was more like it...materialized.”

“Like an Alkesh. It has a cloaking device?” Sam still had her gaze fixed on the screen.

“No, not like that.  Just like...” He snapped his fingers. “Like that.  Not there. There.  And fast, like there was some big invisible hand pushing it.  By the time we scrambled, it had hit the dirt.”  He paused.  “I know this doesn’t make the scientist in you happy, Carter, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

Daniel held out his hand.  “Can I see that?”  

She handed the file to him.  There wasn’t much there--a brief description of a wormhole, the same aerial views showing an object that couldn’t be anything but a spacecraft sitting on bug-like legs in the middle of a clearing. He couldn’t make out much else.  “These occupants you’re talking about…Who or what flew it here?”

“Saved the best for last.”  He fumbled with the remote in his hand until the image lit up the screen.  

Sam leaned in, studying it. Mitchell’s eyes widened.  Teal’c was still.  Daniel clamped his open jaw shut.

“What the hell is that, Sir?” Mitchell said.  

“That’s what you’re going to find out as soon as you and Carter get down there and retrieve its traveling companions.”

Daniel pointed at the screen.  “Do they look like that?  Getting them back here won’t be easy.” It was clear to him that the being in the craft had been alive. It had a shell shaped head, four arms that ended in claws. One claw rested on what appeared to be controls.  Its eyes were closed and its coloring was a sallow grey green. Its image took up most of the screen.

“All I know about its companions is that they look human. The Africans haven’t provided any other information. They wanted the craft and the, um--that guy out of their backyard.  We obliged, but the other two got tangled up in some political mumbo jumbo.”

“ _Look_ human?”  Sam said.

“We didn’t get close enough for DNA samples. They’ve agreed to let us see the others, but we’ve not reached any agreement on actually bringing them back here.” He wheeled his chair away from the table and stood up.  “Mitchell, Carter--Africa. Daniel, Teal’c, Area 51 for that, um...the pilot there.”

“Come on, Jack,” Daniel said. “You and I both know you’ve never seen anything like this. Not the wormhole, not that ship. Not the being in it. It’d be better if Teal’c and I got down there with Mitchell and Sam--”

Jack held out his hands. “Stop.  Area 51.  I’m not asking for your opinion. Mitchell, Carter, I want this to look like official business. Right up to the time that you’re beamed out. The political situation there is already a tinderbox and visitors from above aren’t going to help it any.”

“So you’re going to strike the match?”  Daniel shook his head.  

“This goes higher than me. We need to get a lid on this before it gets out of control.” He checked his watch. “That IOA pain in my backside is meeting me in my office in half an hour for an update. Can’t keep him waiting.”  He gazed around the table and shook his head.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with you people today.”

“Sir, before you go...” Carter stood up.  “I’d like to take Vala Mal Doran with us.”

“And why would I agree to that?”

Daniel saw his frown--again-- but Sam remained composed, her face set. “Sir, she’s been around the universe.  She deals in... in exotic merchandise. And I have reason to believe she may have some intel relating to this wormhole.”

“’Reason to believe’...she doesn’t steal those things too, does she?  Are you planning to share this with me, Carter?”

“Not at the moment, Sir.”

“Huh. Vala Mal Doran.   Not sure I like this but, for you, Carter, I’ll make an exception. She can wait for you on Prometheus. Not much she can do there.”

“Right,” Daniel said. Sam shot him another look but Jack ignored him.  

“If there’s a problem, I’m beaming her out and plopping her into a cell in Area 51.  Make sure she’s clear on that.”

“Understood, Sir.  Thank you, General.”

“Just remember. If this doesn’t pan out, it’s both our asses.”

“Yes, sir.”

If this doesn’t pan out, it’s all our asses, Daniel thought, but he said nothing. 

Jack gave them a nod.  As the door shut behind him, it was like a collective breath had been exhaled.

“What the hell is going on, Sam?” Mitchell stood up and pointed at the computer screen. “IOA? General O’Neill? What the hell am I doing here if he’s not in Washington? Where’s Landry?”

“At this point, I think we just need to be grateful that we all came through in one piece.” 

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s still up for debate.”  Mitchell folded his arms over his chest.  “This is the same wormhole we were going to check out, isn’t it.”

Sam nodded.  “I have to believe it is.”

“I believe it may be the reason for our presence here,” Teal’c said. 

“Yeah, I agree,” Sam said.  “Daniel?”

“One piece. Vala’s in the brig, we’re…here, and you call that one piece.” Daniel tried not to sputter.  

“Send her to the Prometheus,” Mitchell said. “That’s a good one.”

“I’ll keep her out of trouble.”  Sam didn’t appear as convinced as she wanted to sound.

“Yeah, thanks.  That’s what I always say too.” And that didn’t bring him much comfort.

 

***

 

It didn’t matter what reality you were in, or what planet or what ship. Jail was jail.

Vala sat on a hard mattress and scratchy blankets in a cell that appeared ready and able to hold her for a long time. It was sparse, as cells were wont to be, save for the sink, toilet and bed. There was also a solid steel door, its tiny window the only thing that might provide her a glimpse of the outside.

They’d made her change out of the SG1 gear she’d been wearing and into what she considered a prison jumpsuit, the same olive drab that they’d given her when she’d first moved into the SGC. Between the bumpy landing and the manhandling (not in good way), she felt like she was a hundred years old.

Daniel was...she had no idea, but she was here and he was elsewhere. Unfortunately, she’d been given no information. She knew all she needed to know. As far as Jack O’Neill was concerned, she was Vala Mal Doran, or Qetesh, or a member of the Lucien Alliance. A wanted criminal--whichever it was, none of it was good for her.

All this was clearly not as it should be. Was it a false memory? Certainly it was possible. Wasn’t it? All this, a false memory to lure in--Who? Not Adria. Their enemies no longer had a personal connection to her, unless...

Tomin?

She didn’t even know if he existed here, if the Ori were a threat, if she’d ever been pregnant at all...

She shook her hair back, trying to shake some sense into herself. Samantha had made a quick plea for her at the foot of the gate. Perhaps she was arguing her case right now. She pushed herself to her feet, took four strides to the door then peered through the window. The corridor was empty.

She lifted her hair away from her neck. Buried in its mass was her ticket to freedom: a bobby pin. It was completely worthless in any hair related way but that had never been the point. She held it in front of her then crouched down and jiggled the doorknob with her other hand, listening for the movement in the cylinder, hoping for a weak spot...

The pounding on the door caught her by surprise. She fell back as Mitchell and Sam stepped into the room. They were alone.

“A rescue!” She clapped her hands together. “How very Han Solo of you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Princess.” Mitchell grabbed her and pulled her to her feet and into the corridor. The look on his face didn’t make this look like a rescue at all.

“Where are we going? Sam?”

“We’re on borrowed time.” Mitchell pulled her along as she tried to match his long strides. “So don’t say anything and don’t do anything.”

“Where’s Daniel? And Teal’c?”

“We’re all here,” Sam said. “Cam’s right. You’re going to have to let us take the lead on this. And if anyone asks, yes, I injected you with a tracker.”

“But...what? I already--”

Carter held up her palm to Mitchell. He stopped. Sam looked her in the eye. “Vala? You’re with us on this, right? No fooling around?”

Vala nodded, more vigorously than she intended. “Right, right.”

“We’re going to fix this,” Samantha Carter sounded every bit the Lieutenant Colonel. “And then we’re getting us all the hell out of here.”

 

 


	2. Pipe Dreams

John Crichton sat shackled in a military helicopter, his only apparent ally the blond woman who sat across from him dressed in a United States Air Force uniform. Below him rocks rose from a bed of steam as the sun sank into the muddy sea, bathing it with one bold splotch of orange.

Earth, the Ivory Coast to be specific. His captors hadn’t bothered to hide their conversation from him—why would they? Translator microbes didn’t show themselves; as far as they were concerned, he was just some guy…some guy from outer space. Didn’t matter if they were speaking French, English or Chinese. He understood all of it; they’d ignored everything he’d tried to say.

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter was the only American in the chopper, but she’d offered little in the way of explanation other than her name. Some government machinations had landed him in her custody and she’d said next to nothing to him. There was no doubt of his status. The shackles and cuffs were proof of that.

He closed his eyes. Aeryn. He had no idea where she was, no idea how he’d find her. Yet.

_She had run, easily out-pacing him as the mud beneath their feet sucked at his boots. Hip high grass might have hidden them, had they had a chance, but soldiers and civilians had jumped from a helicopter almost before it set down. Other choppers had hovered over them like angry insects, their buzzing growing louder in his ears, garbling the cacophony of voices around him. He’d been surrounded, one set of hands on him, then another and another until he felt like he was in a strait jacket._

_“Don’t fight them! Aeryn!”_

_He’d heard a pop, saw her fall to one knee, then get up again. She’d turned to face him, unsteady. Confusion clouded her face, then her eyes fluttered closed, and she fell flat on her back._

_He’d tried to shake free, fight them, go to her, but none of it happened. Instead, he’d gotten a pistol butt to the head. He’d woken up to find himself being released to the colonel’s custody._

_It was the last he’d seen of her._

“I have some questions.” Voice modulated, non-threatening, when inside he felt like there was something clawing its way through his guts.

“We’ll get to that.” Carter glanced at her watch, then at John.

“My...” His lips moved with the effort of finding the right word, one that wouldn’t tip his hand, one that wouldn’t spur him to do something stupid.

_My love, my life, the center of my universe—_

_“Oh, so sentimental!” Harvey wore a safari hat, khaki shirt and shorts, an elephant gun across his lap as he drove the jeep through the African plains. John held onto the roll bar to keep himself from being thrown out with every bump beneath them._

_“We’re going the wrong way--shouldn’t we be heading toward the coast. Dammit, let me drive!”_

_“Why? You have no idea where you’re going or how you got there. Some wormhole expert you are.” Harvey harrumphed at him. “You need to focus, John. You may not know it but this female may be the only chance you have. The only chance Aeryn has.”_

John banged his head into the panel behind him. Carter glanced at him, glared, shook her head like scolding parent.

“I need answers.” He wanted to bring his hand to his face, but he was shackled at the waist, at the feet. They weren’t taking any chances this time.

“I’ve got my fair share of questions for you.”

“I’m an American citizen. You can’t just hold me here--you should know!”

“An American citizen?” She smiled, shook her head with disbelief. “I don’t think so.”

They’d paid the most highly publicized visit ever seen on the planet. She was military. She had to know who he was, how he’d gotten here--how he’d left.

One soldier, red bereted and sweating, raised a pistol in his direction. “Quiet!”

“Just calm down.” She reached out, gripped his arm with her hand and pressed something into his wrist. He tried to wrench away but she withdrew then gave him a quick nod and smile. The last thing he saw was her face, dissipating in front of him. Pressure built in his ears, blue light engulfed him then his body felt like it was dissolving—

Bright white, then nothing.

 

 

***

 

 

Aeryn Sun awoke. Stared up through blurred eyes at grey walls, a hard pallet flat against her back. Her legs and arms were extra weight. Every joint was like she’d been in a fight. She brought her hands to her face, blinked through dry eyes--no injuries. She sat up, let her the dizziness clear.

 _Fight it._ Fatigue had leeched into her bones: A sting in her thigh, her knee in the mud. John’s voice in the distance...Aeryn!

There were other men in the room but only one caught her attention. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and wore a uniform that she recognized: United States Air Force. His expression gave away nothing.

_John?_

It wasn’t John, couldn’t be. She slid her legs off the pallet then launched herself toward the bars. He was too far to reach. She fell against the metal and sank to the floor. “Let me the frell out! Where is John?” Her head throbbed with each word.

The men stared at her in confusion. The words had come out in Sebacean.

“You need to settle down.” His voice had a hint of a drawl, was slightly higher than John’s, firm but not unkind. “What’s your name?”

She shook her head. The room smelled like it had once housed more people than it should have. It was dank; whomever had brought her here had changed her into some flimsy clothes. Even these clung to her body. In the dim light, she saw him, two other men, and one door. The few other cells were empty. They were arguing.

What had gone wrong? Her head was still clouded--the crash, the sting in her thigh--she didn’t know.

_John’s arm encircling her waist, murmuring in her ear: “It’ll be all right.” The pod had lost its trajectory and she was scrambling for the controls, moving Pilot’s claw aside, ignoring the heaviness of his breathing as she tried to right them, get them back into the wormhole--_

_It had been all she could do to keep them from tumbling end over end and exploding. By the time they’d hit Earth, it had been too late for Pilot._

She counted off the microts, retraced their steps in her mind but there was a gap—-how did she get here?

Her eyes searched the cell--no weapon, nothing but the cot and a metal pitcher that was sweating in the heat. Heat...heat delirium...was that what this was? She grabbed the bars, pulled herself to her feet. Grasped the pitcher, hurled it between the bars. Her aim was poor but it was enough to get his attention as the pitcher glanced off his leg and spun at his feet.

He took a step toward her but the men surrounding him yanked him back. Then the door burst open. Guns drawn and pointed at the two who were talking to him.

 _This isn’t happening_. As the two groups faced each other, the newcomers raised their pistols, shot each of the other men efficiently in the forehead. The two dropped to the ground. Blood pooled at the uniformed man’s shoes. There was fear in his eyes, but he stood his ground.

“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force. Your government gave us permission to speak to her.”

The men looked unimpressed. They pulled his hands behind his head, patted him down, then brought his hands down in front of him and handcuffed him. “Our government no longer exists, Colonel Mitchell. We are here to take custody of the prisoner. We’ll deliver you to your President in one piece if you cooperate.”

_Prisoner?_

Her grip on the bars was slick. One of the men approached her, got close enough so that she was able to grab the collar of the mismatched uniform he wore. The same way she’d taken out guards before, grab, pull him hard to the metal bars, snap his neck--

_I won’t be recaptured Crichton. They will have to kill me if they come to take me tomorrow._

The cell door swung open. They yanked her out. She slipped but one of them grabbed her before she could fall, and pulled her past the bodies on the floor.

There was nothing between her and her fate except for a man who looked like John Crichton. “Colonel Mitchell. Do you have a plan?”

“Quiet!” One of the men raised his gun at her but the other slapped it down.

“They’re to remain unharmed, idiot.”

Cameron Mitchell shook his head, pursing his lips a little behind the smile. She supposed it was meant to offer her some degree of comfort. It didn’t. “Best we just follow orders. It’ll be fine.”

No questions.

No answers.

  

***

 

 

She and Mitchell had been shuffled into the back of a transport vehicle that was shielded with green tarp. They had allowed her shoes at least, something that didn’t encase her feet.

_Sandals?_

She remembered Chiana’s perfect grey toes, each topped with a different color, a pair of these shoes on the Nebari’s small, pale feet. She remembered thinking how useless they were as footwear.

They’d driven long enough for her to metabolize whatever drugs had been in her system. Now it was the atmosphere that concerned her. It hadn’t reached a dangerous level yet, but if she didn’t get out of here soon, she didn’t know how much longer she’d survive in this heat.

Every jolt of the road reverberated through her body. Rain pelted the tarp above them. Through it all, Mitchell sat across from her, his arms still bound in front of him. As far as she could see, there were four men in the truck with them--a driver, one guard on her, two on him. Though Mitchell was military, he appeared useless at the moment. If he was waiting for rescue, he was certainly misguided. They were frelled.

The man to her right leaned in toward her, his breath laced with an intoxicant she recognized from her last time on Earth. He took a lock of her hair in his hands, smoothed it between his thumb and finger.

“Very pretty. Do you think he can stop me?” He motioned his head at Mitchell, rested his hand on her thigh.

“Him?” She glanced at Mitchell. His eyes were intent on her. His mouth formed one word: Don’t.

 _Don’t fight, don’t move, don’t try anything?_ She wasn’t handing her fate over to that.

“No.” Outnumbered but just barely, four to two. Her feet and hands were free; so lax of them to think that she was helpless and at their mercy. So stupid of them to think that four of them, obviously undisciplined, would hold her back.

She turned to face her captor, smiled. He smiled in return, showing a mouth full of fractured and yellowed teeth. His hands touched her hair, moved to her shoulders then attempted to slide inside her tunic.

She wrapped her hands around the collar of his shirt, brought his face toward hers. Head butted him hard, then grabbed the gun from his holster. One of the men sitting next to Mitchell attempted to dive for her--she shot him as his hand grabbed for her knee.

Mitchell was on his feet struggling with the other man beside him, handcuffs hampering his efforts. The driver turned to face them, gun in hand. She fired. Blood and bone showered the cabin. The truck sped up, bobbing them up and down like they were weightless.

The air around her grew bright. She caught a glimpse of Mitchell’s hand, tried to grab it but he disappeared as the truck rumbled off the road. She was thrown free, her body rolling over brush and rock as she tried to grasp at anything that might break her fall. She came to rest in soft mossy area at the bottom of a hill.

Bruised, bleeding, with a familiar pain in her leg. She rolled onto her back, stared at the canopy of trees above her. The sunlight shone through in weak streams but it felt cooler here, the ground beneath her moist and soft.

She was alive.

And alone.

 

 

***

 

 

“Do you have a lock on Mitchell yet?” Colonel Carter stood alongside a small, ET like creature. Jacket off, sleeves rolled up. Like she was ready to work.

“What the hell just happened?” John looked down, surprised to see that he was in one piece, not so surprised that she hadn’t bothered to unlock him.

ET was one thing. The woman who stood in front of the console pointing a weapon of some sort at him was another altogether. She’d stepped forward as soon as the light disappeared. She stared at him now over the weapon, her black eyebrows raised in a question. The ship itself was an array of technology he didn’t recognize. The stars outside the portal were unquestionably familiar. He was in orbit over Earth.

“Colonel?” The woman sounded unsure and a little amused. She wore Aeryn’s face and her general build but she wasn’t Aeryn. This was some bizarro version, some Scarran mind frell. He took a shuffling step toward her. She leveled the weapon at his chest, took a stance that was enough to keep him from taking another.

“Please. Don’t make me use this. I really don’t like shooting people. Very messy, and they’re never very forgiving when they wake up. Not to mention, you’re in no condition to fight.” She nodded at his shackles.

“Who are you?” He was afraid he’d go crackers before he got some answers.

“Oh, no. You first. Sam?”

The colonel shrugged, her eyes intent on the console. “No time for much conversation. I barely got him to the chopper. Says he’s an American citizen.”

“Commander John Crichton, IASA.”

The woman blinked, shook her head. “You mean NASA.”

“I mean IASA. Your turn. What. Is. Your. Name.”

“Vala Mal Doran, Commander.” She glanced at Carter. “You know, he’s a dead ringer for--”

Carter nodded. “Yeah. I noticed that.”

“For...?” John said.

“Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell,” Vala said. “That’s who we’re trying to find now. Along with your companion.” She glanced at Carter. “Or have I said too much.”

“Not nearly enough,” he said. The ship was antiseptic, while he stood there smelling his own sweat. This was a military vessel, not quite command carrier class, but larger than any Earth based space craft he’d ever seen or had known to exist.

“Listen. I... the person who was with me...” Aeryn. Why did she look just like Aeryn? Were they gas-lighting him? Some other guy who looked like him? Someone else who looked like her, who was staring right at him with a weapon pointed at him and a smile on her face?

He’d seen Aeryn’s face in other places, on other people. Fembots and unrealized realities...He wasn’t in Kansas anymore. This was Oz, and he was Dorothy without a wizard.

“Send me back down there. Use that light, that beaming thing--”

Carter didn’t look up. “You’re not going anywhere. We’re trying to secure them, but we’re only reading one energy signal.”

He turned to Vala. “What does that mean?”

“We got you here because Sam was able to get a beacon on you for transport. Apparently, Mitchell hasn’t had the same luck.”

“Luck? You’re counting on good luck?” He laughed brokenly. “Lady, if you’re depending on luck, we’re all screwed.” He shambled toward the console. “Send me back. I’ll find her.”

Vala lowered the weapon. He continued forward until she rested her hand on his arm. Her eyes, Aeryn’s same grey blue, were filled with sympathy.

“No,” she said. “You won’t. You obviously don’t know how things work here. If we can’t get a lock on two energy signatures, then that means we only have Mitchell and he’s encountered a problem. Your companion...you’re sure he’s still alive...”

“She. Positive.” He had to be.

The answer brought a silent response from Carter to Vala. The message between the two women seemed clear: He’d played his hand.

Vala’s hand tightened around his arm. “Trust me. We want to set this right every bit as much as you do.”

“Trust.” He extended his arms as far as he could. “It’s a two way street. How about unlocking me?”

She glanced at the Colonel. Carter sighed, fished a set of keys from her pocket and tossed them at Vala but her attention was focused on the console. “This is strange…”

Vale knelt down, unlocked his feet. He could plant a boot in her face...make a grab for her weapon... he was sure his heavier mass would take her out—

She looked up at him, shook her head. “I’ve been there, not knowing what’s on the other side of this. Not knowing whom to trust.” She unlocked the remaining shackles, rose to her feet, and stood within a hand’s breadth of him as she freed his wrists. She smelled like perfume and make up and laundry soap, all smells that grounded him nowhere but Earth.

“You’re outnumbered. Your friend is with ours. I don’t think fighting with us will serve you any purpose at all.” She stepped back, retrieved the weapon but didn’t point it at him.

Trust me...did he have any other choice?

“Colonel Carter. I have a lock.” ET’s voice didn’t betray any emotion.

“Got ‘em!” Carter’s voice rang out in triumph. John turned as the light once again filled his senses.

“Dammit!” The man materialized face down. He pounded both fists on the floor then rolled onto his back, tied fists resting on his forehead.

Mitchell.

He sat up and stared at John then got to his feet. “I...I tried to grab her--” He turned to Carter. “She looks like...” His gaze slid to Vala then to John. “Sam?”

John was on him before anyone could move. He grabbed Mitchell’s lapels in both hands and pulled the man toward him. “Where. Is. Aeryn?”

Mitchell pushed him hard against the console. He raised hands in front of his face. “Keys?”

Vala pivoted between the two men, her weapon pointed at John.

“Enough!” Carter moved from the console toward them, held out her hand. Vala gave her the keys, the weapon steady in front of her. “Commander Crichton, step back or I’ll have so many guns in here you’ll wish Vala had shot you.”

Carter jimmied at the lock. The cuffs clattered to the floor. John had seen enough blood and brains to recognize the mess that decorated Mitchell’s clothes.

“Where the hell is she?” He raised his fist, stepped toward Mitchell again. Carter countered it with her own as Vala swept his feet out from under him. The weapon crackled at his ear.

“You’re quite the slow learner. This will all go a lot faster if you shut up, cooperate, and quit trying to fight with us.”

Mitchell hauled him to his feet and threw him against the back of the console. He planted his hand on John’s chest, pinning him in place. Vala kept the weapon aimed.

He pushed Mitchell away and raised his hands in surrender.

“The blood isn’t hers,” Mitchell said. “Hands changed, they were taking us from the prison where they’d held her. We were in a truck...she got loose, shot the driver. I never got close enough to plant the beacon. I made a grab for her but the truck rolled and ...and I ended up here.” He slipped out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor then took off his necktie and tossed it on top of the jacket. “She took out a couple of their guys before I could even get to my feet...”

 _Prison._ The bastards had her in a prison cell. No time, never any time to sort it out but he’d had enough of it to imagine the Scarran prison. He’d known her condition when he’d found her, drugged, tortured... He couldn’t lose her now—

_“What a lovely sentiment, John. Not that you’ve ever thought there was a good time to lose Aeryn, have you.”_

_“Harvey!!!”_

_Harvey’s lounging on a beach awash in human wreckage--bodies loll in with each surge of the surf. The grey sands are littered with civilization’s debris. All he needed to see now was Lady Liberty, some Planet of the Apes call back. John falls to his knees, making two deep indentations in the wet sand. The smell is overwhelming--charred metal, rotting meat, children, women, men--there was no telling._

_Harvey’s mambo shirt ripples in the breeze. He holds a margarita in one hand, a shaker in the other. “This is your legacy, John Crichton. Things never seem to work out the way you intend, do they.”_

_John scrambles to his feet and grabs Harvey’s collar. The drink flies from his hand._

_“Shut up!”_

_“Being wrong so often must be a terrible burden. You had your opportunity, you chose your alliances....Scorpius assured you protection from your enemies.” He produces another margarita, takes a sip. “I’m just enjoying the scenery.”_

Wormholes.

 _Fix the first thing that goes wrong_...what was the first thing?

“I’m not supposed to be here.” The words fell from his mouth like he didn’t want to believe them.

“What do you mean ‘not supposed to be here?” Samantha Carter had stepped back to the control panel. Her palms hovered over the array.

Mal Doran arched an eyebrow at him and looked like she was waiting for the punch line. Mitchell rolled up his sleeves, never letting his gaze leave John.

“Here. Up here. With you. I should be with Aeryn.”

_“You’re smarter than you look, John.”_

_“Shut up, Harvey.”_

Mitchell stepped forward, chin out. A challenge. “We’re all here and we don’t know why.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His hands itched to punch this guy in the face, but he was the last person to see Aeryn. Mal Doran was right--he wasn’t making this any easier on himself.

Carter broke the silence. “I think we have a very small window of opportunity to...right things.”

“‘Right things.’” John scratched at his ear. _I got this hum in my head_... “What ‘things’?”

“It’s a bit complicated,” Vala said. “Yesterday was not like today.”

“And that means what, exactly?” He chewed on his lip.

The ring he’d held in his pocket was gone. Aeryn. Lost. The world here was not the one he’d left behind, nothing like the one where a skreeth had followed him home and killed his friends. This one had aliens he’d never seen, technology beyond the Farscape or IASA projects. This was a sophisticated military operation, not too unlike the Peacekeepers--Olivia, Dad, Susan--did they even exist here? How much had changed?

“What have I done?”

“Oh, don’t ask, John.”

Harvey’s smiling at him, wearing Einstein’s suit. His black eyes gleam like a mad bomber standing over a cache of dynamite as he recites Einstein’s lines.

“‘Space and time are fused. A set of coordinates for each required to locate a specific event. Time. Wormholes. The knowledge to unravel events.’ You remember that part, don’t you, John? I know I do.

“Commander!” Vala stood in front of him and grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him once. He shifted away from her and moved toward the console, hands at his sides as he stared at the blinking, unfamiliar array.

“Have you ever heard of the Farscape project?” He turned to Carter, who seemed the most likely to know anything. “IASA? Me? My father. John Robert Crichton. He was an astronaut.”

Carter laid a hand lightly on his arm. There was trust there, a willingness that seemed lacking in the other two--or maybe that was his own problem, staring at bizarro versions of himself and Aeryn.

“No.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled away from her, scrubbed his hands over his face. “‘Yesterday was not like today...’ What does that mean?”

The three exchanged glances. Mitchell nodded.

“There was an...anomaly in...in our reality.” Carter kept her hand on his arm, holding him in place. “Was being the operative word…We left Stargate Command to investigate and ended up in Stargate Command--”

He shook his head. “Stargate command...?”

Carter nodded. “Our base of operation.” She paused. “I don’t know how to explain this all, exactly. Unfortunately, I’ve had no time to study this and now I can’t find it out here.”

“It’s gone?” Mitchell crowded toward the console.

“Anomaly.” John chewed on a thumbnail. “What, like an electromagnetic wave?”

ET looked up from his console, nonplussed by Carter’s explanation of events, of their description of realities. Unperturbed? Who even knew what unperturbed looked like on the little alien’s face?

“A wormhole,” ET continued. “One without a means of traverse. A wormhole requires a stargate. This anomaly did not.”

John laughed this time, but there was no humor in it. “A wormhole. A big ol’ wormhole.”

“How much do you know about wormholes?” Carter took her hand off his arm.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

“Huh,” Mitchell said. “Now, why does that sound like bullshit to me.”

“Cam,” Carter said. “Cam, this is not going to help.

Mitchell strode to where John stood and stared him in the eye. “We don’t want to be here anymore than you. I reckon we both have a reason to want it changed back.”

“What makes you think this has anything to do with me?”

“Call it a hunch,” Mitchell said.

“This wormhole was on both sides of our...reality,” Vala said. “And now you’re here, in some craft we’ve never seen, with someone who looks just like me, for one. Really? Do I need to draw a picture?”

“What do you know about wormholes?” Carter repeated.

He closed his eyes. Where had he gone wrong? He’d had the calculations set out. Pilot—Pilot!

“Where’s our pilot? Our ship?”

“Our team members are working on that,” Carter said. “But that’s not part of our mission here.”

He didn’t give a shit about their mission. Aeryn had been with him, on this Earth, wherever it was. He’d had his father on the coms before he’d closed the wormhole...was that where it had all changed? Had he even closed the wormhole or had the Scarrans made it through to attack Earth? What cosmic hiccup had coughed them up? Because clearly--clearly--this was wrong. At least everyone here could agree on that.

Change rippled out from the first mutation. He didn’t even know where that had started. How would he figure it out if the wormhole was gone now?

“Colonel Carter, I’ve gotten a signal from Stargate Command.”

“Send them our coordinates along with where we beamed out Colonel Mitchell. They may need it.” She glanced at John.

“Oh, no, no, no. You better do a helluva a lot better than that.” He moved toward the console. Mitchell grabbed his arm and yanked. John swung but missed landing a punch. Mitchell twisted behind him and held him in a headlock, one step ahead of John with every move.

“Knock it off! You’re just getting in our damn way.”

“Carter?” Static crackled over the comms.

He felt the ringing in his ears…

“General?” Sam glanced at them, eyebrows up in a question. “Sir, I’ve got one of the subjects in custody. Colonel Mitchell was unable to get a beacon on the other.”

Easy to say, so easy. John pulled against Mitchell but the hold around him grew tighter.

“What? One...Mitchell...where...”

“I’m sending you the coordinates. You’re going to have to send someone down.”

Static.

“Sir! She looks like Vala...Mal Doran.”

“Mal Doran...what--”

A hum in his head, more instinct than science. It was the devil in his ear, beckoning. He knew it without having to see.

“Colonel Carter.” ET’s voice was calm, unmoved by the drama in front of him. His long fingers arched over the panel, a magician conjuring up a trick. “The anomaly has reappeared.”

He didn’t need an announcement or a control panel or anything else.

Carter pulled away from the console and walked to the portal, then stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. “Holy Hannah,” she said. “Thor, can we get closer, get readings--”

Mitchell’s attention turned to Carter. John wrenched free, pushing Mitchell away as he lunged toward Thor. “Don’t follow it! Do you hear me? If you wanna get out of this thing anywhere close to where you started, do not follow it!” He turned to Mitchell, palms out in front of him. “Don’t touch me and do not mess with me, man.”

Vala leveled the weapon at him but only looked halfhearted. Thor looked at him, blinked quizzically, moved his hands away.

“Colonels?” he said.

“Stay where we are,” Mitchell said. “Sam?”

Vala lowered the weapon. “Samantha?”

Carter sighed. “As long as that thing’s doing...whatever it’s doing, we won’t go anywhere.” She paused. “But you’d better start talking.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. “You were right about the window of opportunity. It’s shrinking fast.”

 

 

 


	3. Keep Breathing

 

 

"A Diagnosan, Chiana." Stark's voice lilted through Zhaan's burned out quarters. In the haziness of her eyesight, Chiana thought she was able to see lights and shadows. Maybe those were Stark's arms spread wide as he wove a tale she was certain he was doing for her sake alone.

A Diagnosan. Then a new pilot! Then they'd find a wormhole and make their way to Earth and pick up Crichton and Aeryn and Pilot because, hezmana knew, there was no way the three of them would want to stay on Earth.

It was a fairytale for children. Impressionable children who wanted nothing more than to see again.

She lay back on the bed, pulling her coverlet up to her chin. She'd avoided Crichton's and Aeryn's tier completely. Her sense of smell seemed to have heightened with her blindness; she couldn’t deal with their familiar scents.

This place, barely healing as it was more than a cycle after Zhaan's death, was almost like having her here. The few urns and baubles of Zhaan's that were still in one piece sat in small niches in the wall. Sometimes she thought she felt Zhaan's spirit hovering nearby, sometimes a cool hand over her eyes.

Sometimes she thought she was as farboht as the one eyed Stykera and the three eyed old witch. Rygel was right--another hezmot with the wrong number of eyes.

At least their eyes still worked.

"Frell it!" She threw the coverlet to the floor and stood up. Grabbed a pillow from the bed, twisted it hard until it ripped. Then D’Argo’s strong and familiar hands gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest.

"What the frell is going on here? Stark? What have you done?"

"Well...I was only attempting...She needs comfort." Stark's voice wavered. "Truly, I did nothing."

"It's not his fault," she said.

D'Argo put his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him. She supposed he was studying her, searching her face the way he liked to do. She held out her hand, reached up then ran the back of her fingers over his cheek.

"Really. It's ok. He didn't do anything. He...He thinks there's a Diagnosan here somewhere."

D'Argo released her. She felt the movement of air around him as he turned from her. Three heavy steps then she supposed he had moved onto Stark. When he spoke again, his voice was low.

"No lies, Stark."

"None. I promise."

She could imagine Stark shrinking away, folding himself up slightly like he could just disappear. Disappear, into a wormhole...

Aeryn wasn't afraid of much, but wormholes? The wormhole and its power over Crichton? Chiana understood it now, in every fiber of her body. Aeryn was right. This somehow seemed worse than Zhaan, worse than Talyn. Zhaan and Talyn had consciously chosen their deaths, had sacrificed themselves for the rest of them. Maybe because they'd both felt they were at the end of one journey on their way to another. They'd both died heroes.

Pilot. Crichton. Aeryn. Thinking they could fix something impossible, thinking they’d all come back.

Or were they all sitting there under one of those palm things, the sun warming them while they drank those drinks that were sweeter than raslak but took a lot longer to get their grip on you? She'd hold to that vision, would believe that all three of them--even Pilot--had found a foothold somewhere.

The other was more than she could bear.

"What do you know about this planet?" D'Argo sounded louder and more impatient than usual. Sometimes she'd heard his footsteps pounding outside this room, barking orders to Noranti, yelling at Rygel. Sometimes just shouting in Ancient Luxan, like he was calling his ancestors to battle. When it was too much, she muffled it all with a pillow over her ears.

"Not a lot," Stark said. "I just sense a...a presence..."

"You 'sense' something. Useless, as usual.”

"D'Argo," she said. "Why don't we just take a pod and see what we can find out there?"

"Leave Moya," he said.

"Hey, you spent all that time hanging around that archaeological stuff with Jool." She laughed slightly. "Why not put all that wasted time to use finally?"

"We don't know if they're hostile--"

"We're sitting in the middle of a lake. Don't you figure if they were they'd have already shot the dren out of us?"

He didn’t say anything for a moment. "Pilot! Ready a trans--"

The air seemed to go out of the room.

"I...I'll see what I can do to get a transport ready. Stark, help Chiana to the maintenance bay. We’ll meet you there.”

 

***

 

They'd gone to Qujagan after managing to figure out how to open the landing bay; it had taken longer than D'Argo had expected. Finally, Noranti had settled on a configuration that sounded a lot like a recipe for spider soup. Whatever, it had been enough to open the doors and he, Stark, Rygel and Chiana had disembarked Moya in a transport pod, leaving Noranti to tend to her as best she could.

She certainly wouldn't be any worse at it than the rest of them.

Scorpius was the last person D'Argo had expected to see waiting for him at the foot of the transport pod as they came down the steps.

"Ka D'Argo!" Scorpius stepped forward, his arms extended in welcome. Behind him was Sikozu. That almost made him feel relieved.

He drew the Qualta blade from its sheath. Rygel slid to a stop behind him, just avoiding contact with him. Stark let out an "oh, my."

"What the frell?" Chiana said. "Is that frelling Scorpius? Scorpius? Kill him, D'Argo. Right now."

"I'd advise against that." Sikozu stepped forward and stood beside Scorpius, looking like his other half, her own pistol drawn. Scorpius let his arms drop to his side but the welcoming grin on his face didn't change.

"Ka D'Argo," he said. "Such a cool greeting from such an old friend. I expected better."

"Why?" D'Argo leveled the blade at Scorpius' face.

"Because he's here to assist you before it's too late. Rescuing you from your usual irrational acts."

"Now, Sikozu." Scorpius put his hand on her arm and she lowered her weapon. "D'Argo won't shoot me. Not when you know I've not failed you yet."

D'Argo kept his guard and scanned the area behind them. A docking port, busy with commerce and ships of all stripe but nothing Peacekeeper in appearance. It only made him more suspicious.

"You won't find them on your own," Scorpius said. "I've flown with Crichton through wormholes..." He glanced at Chiana. "To other... places. Why do you deny it now?"

_Einstein said I can get back to the places I've been to before. It's like a homing beacon. I can make it._

D'Argo shook his head, growling low under his breath.

"Dominar. Perhaps you can reason with him," Scorpius said.

Rygel slid toward Scorpius. "Oh, I don't know about that. I have yet to see where your value lies in this matter."

"Wormholes, Rygel." Sikozu stepped away from Scorpius' side. "The only person who understands wormholes to any degree is Scorpius. Crichton is gone. Aeryn can't pilot Moya for you, nor is she here to fly the module. Ask yourselves if you want to wager their lives for his. If so, shoot us both."

"Frell," Chiana said.

D'Argo heard a clattering on the steps behind him. Chiana grabbed his back to keep from falling as Stark clambered past him, waving his arms like a madman.

"Crichton, Aeryn, wormholes, my side, your side." He was in Scorpius' face, his lips drawn back in a grimace. "All of you know." He turned to D'Argo. "He knows! Scorpy knows!"

Scorpius smiled and put out a hand toward Stark. Pushed him back just a little.

"There," he said. "The Banik can serve as my calling card, shall we say?"

"Not much of a voucher."

Chiana grabbed his arm and slid in front of him, her other arm reaching out for the hand that held the Qualta blade. "D'Argo, put it down."

"You just wanted me to shoot him!"

She faced Scorpius, leading with her chin, trying to ferret him out. Scorpius stood, silent and patient, while Sikozu rolled her eyes.

"So...what do you have to say?" Chiana said. "He might still shoot if it's not worthwhile."

Scorpius smiled. "Ah, young Nebari. Certainly I'm willing to discuss this, rationally, but perhaps at a place less...conspicuous?"

"Fine," D'Argo said. "But hand over your weapons."

"We will not!" Sikozu said but Scorpius took her hand.

"Let's humor them." He drew his pistol from its holster and handed it to Chiana. Sikozu, with another eye roll, did the same.

"Now," he said. "Shall we find a place to dine?"

 

***

 

 

They’d found a secluded spot off the city square, an eating establishment tucked in an alleyway. Judging from the appearance of the few occupants, this seemed just the place for questionable arrangements of any sort. Almost everyone who passed them by pretended not to see them. D'Argo had suggested the transport pod but Scorpius' trust would only go so far.

"A show of good faith doesn't equal stupidity," Sikozu had said.

John's predisposition to trust Scorpius aside, D'Argo was having a hard time mustering up any faith in this arrangement. He could tell by the rumbling from Rygel that the same concern weighed on the Dominar.

A server approached them, then took a step back when he saw Scorpius. "Are you Peacekeeper?"

"Do I look like a Peacekeeper? Raslak all around.”

The server nodded and hurried away, still not sure his question had been answered.

"All right. Enough with the meet and greet," D'Argo said. "What is Stark yammering about?"

"Wormholes," Stark said. "Millions, billions..."

Chiana hit him on the back of the head. "Shut. Up." She perched in her seat like a bird about to take flight. "So, Psycho, looks like you chose your side. The Peacekeepers. Scorpius."

"We are on the same side in this endeavor. In all, as a matter of fact," Sikozu said. "What should I have done? Scorpius offered Crichton his help. Perhaps he should have taken it. Perhaps you should have encouraged him to do so."

"Perhaps you should shut the frell up," Chiana said.

"Enough!" D’Argo said.

"Well, this won't get us anywhere." Scorpius sat back, rapped his fingertips on the table, just waiting for the rest of them to burn themselves out. "Sikozu is correct, though. Crichton chose not to accept my help. At this point, we have no way of knowing if Scarrans followed Crichton to Earth, if he disintegrated upon entry. Nothing."

D'Argo's eyes cast about at his table mates. Even Sikozu looked upset by that prospect.

"So why bother us?" he said. "Why come after us, look for us, if you believe Crichton is dead? Or do you care that much about his planet?"

Scorpius smiled, started to say something then closed his mouth. Sikozu sat looking defiant but said nothing.

He heard rumbling. At first, he thought it was one of Rygel's stomachs, displaying their usual tendencies to make their presence known at the worst times. Then there was a chuckle. It became full blown laughter as they all turned their heads toward Rygel. He sat with both hands over his stomach like he was trying to hold it all in.

"You're a master, I'll grant you that." He wiped at his eyes. "Crichton never has shaken loose of your frelling clone, has he. And you know that he's alive." He shook his head and raised an empty hand in tribute.

"Is this true?" D'Argo leaned forward. Did his hopes rest on Scorpius?

"Ka D'Argo." The smile still hadn't left his face. "I'm here to assist. Does it matter beyond that?"

Rygel slid his throne sled toward Scorpius but still out of arm's reach. "What do you propose?"

"Rygel!" D'Argo said.

"What? He obviously has nothing at hand but..." Rygel grinned. "But he is resourceful and we certainly are short on that. What have we got here, D'Argo? A one eyed babbling idiot, a three-eyed old toad, a no-eyed tralk, you and me."

"You have Moya." Sikozu's voice was quiet, reverent. "You have Moya. And you have Noranti. They've both been through a wormhole. You have the module. It's been through the wormhole. You have Scorpius and he has a connection to Crichton, whether either of them likes it or not."

"This is nothing but a ploy to get Crichton's module." D'Argo slapped his hand on the tabletop, sending the few eating utensils clattering onto the ground.

"For what purpose?" Sikozu said.

"Wormholes. What else?" D'Argo leaned forward toward Scorpius, his voice low, menacing. "John didn't want to help you in any war between you and the Scarrans. Why should we?"

"Because it's Crichton." Stark sighed. "And we don't know."

"It's more than that, Ka D'Argo." Scorpius kept his reclined position, looking, as always, like he had the upper hand.

"Is it?"

"Suppose Crichton didn't close the wormhole? What then? Who will defend his world, or do you think he'd want to be responsible for the deaths of millions or the enslavement of his planet." He paused, leaned forward. "You've been a prisoner. A slave. Do you think Crichton would want that? Scarrans on their way to his home world? Would you want that on your head?"

"Frell," Chiana said softly. "And if they are, there's nothing we can do about it, is there? We...we can't close the frelling thing."

"Rygel." D'Argo hated himself for even entertaining the thought. "Crichton's calculations...the ones he gave to Pilot for the transport pod. Would Moya have those stored in her databanks?"

"Yes." Sikozu's response was faster than Rygel's but Rygel nodded a confirmation.

"And you can access those? Sikozu?"

"D'Argo!" Chiana slapped his arm. "You're not gonna do it. No...no way."

D'Argo shook her off. The server set the raslaks on the table, withering away under Scorpius' glare. D'Argo didn't touch one glass.

"I'm going to do what we have to do to get them back." And if he was wrong, he'd live with that too.

Scorpius lifted his container in salute. "So then. We are agreed."

 

 

***

 

 

 

The wormhole was open, undulating in a pattern John hadnt't recalled seeing before. Unstable. Unsteady. Before he’d been able to contemplate it further, they’d shunted him off to a small, grey room with nothing but a table and three chairs. That, a new set of USAF issued coveralls, and no answers.

He shut his eyes, waited. Felt like he was playing a shell game.

_Let's make a deal, Moya is behind door number three. Click your heels together, there's no place like home._

"Harvey, I could use a hand." How long before this would become his permanent reality, floating in space, Aeryn lost and hurt. Not dead. Not dead.

Part of him had wanted to kiss Samantha Carter for at least having the foresight to send some kind of information to her boss. The other part had wanted to force ET to beam him back to Earth, and leave him to find his own way home.

The door slid open. Carter and Vala Mal Doran. Carter had a pistol strapped to her thigh. Vala still carried the weapon she'd held earlier. No doubt guys who’d brought him here were standing on the other side of that door.

"Commander Crichton..." If this was good cop/bad cop, Carter sounded like she'd opted for the former.

They sat down across the table from him, Vala holding the weapon with a feigned casualness.

"John. Call me John. Sure, let's get this on a first name basis...Samantha." He inclined his head toward the weapon. "Is all this really necessary?"

"Well...you did attack Colonel Mitchell," Vala said. "But I'm sure you won't make me use it. We all want the same thing."

"Huh...and what would that be, exactly? Because I don't think you do."

Carter cleared her throat. "You said it yourself. Our window of opportunity it shrinking fast. My analysis says that our transmission made it through. I know we're working on getting you what you want."

He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "How do I know?"

"Now, what earthly good would it do us to have another of me running around out there?" Vala cocked her head at him. "I mean, you haven't forgotten that your companion resembles me. Significantly."

Black hair wild over her shoulders, held in place with the smallest of hair clips. She sat with the chair partially turned toward the portal, legs crossed at the ankle like she was in no particular hurry. By contrast, Carter sat up straight and tall, orderly and authoritarian.

Again, he replayed his options: _If I lunge forward past Carter, grab Mal Doran's wrist, she drops the weapon...and then what, Johnny boy?_

Carter reached out and put her hand over his. She gripped his wrist; he stopped rapping his fingers on the table top.

"I'd advise against it," she said. "Vala's a decent shot. And she's right. It wouldn't do us any good to have your companion planet side."

"You seem to be a matched set," Vala said. "Neither of you belongs here."

"Neither do you, from what you've said," he said.

Vala nodded, biting her lip in thought. "I did say something to that effect, didn't I."

"John." Carter's voice floated to him.

"You clearly need to focus," Vala said. "I am not your companion, if that helps to clear things up for you. Samantha?"

"That wormhole is still out there." She pointed toward the portal. "Open, disrupting our communication. And you know why."

"No, I don't." The wonders of the universe, locked up in his head, a dream barely remembered in the morning.

_Harvey was scratching away at his brain._

_Wrestling over the chasm between them, his arms wrapped around Harvey's, hands locked on Harvey's shoulders. Harvey had him in a similar grip and between them was a growing chasm. It swirled blue and beckoning but he wasn't wearing an EVA suit this time. If Harvey cast him in now, he'd fall without back-up, the air sucked out of his lungs. Freezing to death—_

Knuckles rapped the table like a knock on the door. It was Vala, leaning forward, poised to knock again.

"Focus," she said again.

"Wormholes. You seem to know something about them. Sam."

Carter shifted in her seat. "We do."

"No shit, huh?" Even knowing better, the answer still caught him off guard. Maybe he wasn't the universe's sole expert after all. "So then why ask me? That little Thor guy you have on the ship is a lot smarter than I am."

"This is different," Sam said.

"So...wormholes but not my kind of wormholes. Is that it?"

"We didn't realize you had a patent," Vala said.

"Vala," Carter said. She turned back to John. "Yes and no."

"'Our'" wormholes have gates," Vala said. "Portals. Much easier for inter-planetary commerce. As opposed to, say, crashing your shuttle pod in the middle of a civil war or whatever might have been taking place."

"You think we did that on _purpose_?" John said. "We lost our Pilot in that crash. I've told you, I'm not supposed to be _here_. Not on this ship, not on this version of bizarro Earth or whatever. My father is Colonel John Robert Crichton Sr. He flew moon missions for IASA. _IASA_ , not NASA. My best friend and I experimented with something we called the Farscape project. I flew a mission and got lost in space. I came back. Any of this ring a bell?"

Carter nodded with each word, looking like she was cataloging it all for fact checking. Vala looked at him like he was crazy.

"Okay. None of this means anything to either of you," he said. "But it means something to me. For what it's worth, I've never heard of any of you either."

"Our missions are classified," Carter said.

"So, what, like Area 51 bullshit, men in black...that sort of thing?"

The two women exchanged glances. "We're not at liberty to say," Carter said.

"Oh, right. So, I'm supposed to cough up all kinds of information while you guys play possum with me." He leaned back, much less confident than he was trying to appear. "No."

"I don't think you're in a position to refuse," Vala said.

Carter shot her a warning glance. Vala laid the weapon on the table then slid it to him.

"Is that better?" She glanced at Carter, who gave a brief nod. "We have two more team members on Earth who are in our same predicament. I know that they would not leave her stranded there. I know it." Vala Mal Doran's voice softened along with her expression.

"John, Vala's right. They'll do everything in their power to find her."

He sighed. "'My' wormholes don't work like yours. There's no portal or anything...Hell, I'm not sure how they work. Part art, part science." He pulled away from Vala; he didn’t want to look at her anymore. "I feel it the way you might feel a rainy day in your bones. The Ancients--"

“Wait,” Carter said. "Ancients?"

Both women stared at him like he'd revealed the secret of the universe.

“Ancients. Yeah.” Did they know Einstein? Jack?

"Sam!" Mitchell's voice squawked through the radio on Carter's jacket.

Carter moved her hand to her vest, not taking her eyes off John. "What is it?"

"General O'Neill got through. He has orders. You guys better get up here. And bring Crichton with you."

 

***

  

Aeryn didn't know how long she'd lain there, but it was long enough to watch the bits of sky go from a pale blue to a dusky grey. No vehicles, no weapons, no allies. Pregnant, injured, bleeding, lost.

Completely frelled.

Where had they taken John? There was no doubt in her mind that their separation was against his will. And Pilot... Pilot. The beautiful creature that was Pilot, wisdom and kindness and friendship, dead.

A drop of water splashed against her cheek. She tilted her head back, opened her mouth, closed her eyes.

_Rain. I like it._

But not this time. A gash in her forehead, a fracture in her leg that felt like it was shifting out of place. The rain was falling harder now; her clothes stuck to her like a second skin. She needed shelter.

She spotted a canopy of trees fifty or so paces away. It might as well have been a field march. Breathed in, tried to fill her lungs but each breath was laborious. Gravity, atmospheric pressure...she had no idea but her chest felt full and heavy.

She bit down on her lip, letting the pain in her leg and hip wash over her, then she dug her elbows into the pliant ground, forcing herself backward using her uninjured leg and both arms to move herself the few metras to a tree stump beneath the canopy.

She leaned her back against it, closed her eyes. Focus. Her injuries were the enemy right now--her training had taught her to take that enemy full on. Let it embed itself in rage, use it like a shield.

A fragment of her bone had broken through the skin. She considered it like something disconnected from her. If she didn't do something about her leg and her situation, she might just as well die right here.

_Soldiers didn't panic, didn't give up. They looked at the logistics, strategized possible outcomes..._

_You've had worse. Much worse._

No matter what her mind told her, no matter her training--this was going to hurt like frelling dren. There was no putting it off any longer.

She stretched until her palm and fingers reached the exposed bone. She pressed against it with the heels of both hands—Her scream tore through the silence. Heat flared beneath her hands, blossoming in her gut. She sucked in her breath and gave one more push until she heard the bone snap into place with a loud crack.

Her head lolled back; caught in the fog surrounding her vision were aircraft overhead, zooming in low and out of control, black smoke trailing from their tails.

Her eyes were playing tricks on her. This place was desolate, she was thirsty, tired and injured...

Military aircraft, something she remembered from the last time they were on Earth, then another, faster craft that disappeared out of sight before she could identify it.

She blinked, shook her head. Four figures rode the sky in ejector seats, straight up and away from the ships that glided beneath them. They seemed to hang in midair as they separated from their chairs.

Four solid black objects plummeted as the occupants' chutes caught an updraft. Their ships were out of her sight now, lost in the line of trees.

There was a low rumble beneath her, then she heard a crack and boom, close enough to make her believe that the aircraft had landed nearby. A plume of fire shot over the tree line. Her mind sent the message-- _retreat_!--but she was stuck. The figures swayed in the air drafts; open, slow moving targets.

_No, no, no._

She braced against the tree stump and angled up to sit on it. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Her good leg was shaking, and blood ran from the cut in her forehead to her eyes but she dug in, heel anchoring itself in the peat until she was finally up and sitting on the stump.

Her stomach heaved but there was nothing in it; she retched until the nausea passed. From here, it was easier to see the clearing and its tangle of branches and vines. A sturdy looking branch lay about three metras from her. She'd never make it unless she crawled on her belly, dragging her useless leg behind her.

There was a rustling in the trees overhead. She looked up as one of the aircrafts' occupants became tangled in the trees. From where she sat, it was difficult to determine much other than he wore what appeared to be a flight suit and helmet, both with banners she recognized.

_The same banners on John's flight suit._

Two others joined their comrade in the trees; one had managed to swing away and he landed with a thud in the clearing in front of her. He stood to his full height, slightly shorter than D'Argo and almost as broad. He pulled his helmet off his head--he was dark-skinned with a mark on his forehead and a peaceful expression on his face, incongruent with his situation.

She was defenseless.

His radio squawked and he turned his attention to that.

"Teal'c!" The voice coming through the speaker was loud and panicked. "Teal'c? You ok?"

The big man pressed a thumb against the radio as he studied her. "Daniel Jackson. Target acquired."

"What?" The voice coming through the radio was high pitched with panic. "Teal'c. We're caught in the damned trees! What is going on down there?"

"I've found her. The one who looks like Vala Mal Doran." He turned his attention to her. "Identify yourself."

She recognized the language. "You first," she said in English.

"Teal'c!" The voice came through the transmitter again but she didn't take her eyes off the man in front of her. His thumb moved to the radio.

"Teal'c! I think....I think Jennings is dead up here. Hawkins...I don't know where he is."

"Name, rank, regiment?" She was in no condition for a standoff but she wasn't about to give up without a fight.

"I am Teal'c. The one in the trees is Daniel Jackson. Our team leader is Colonel Cameron Mitchell."

"Mitchell." Cameron Mitchell, the man who'd left her here to die.

 _Focus, Sun!_ What did she know about these people? They'd taken John. Mitchell had said he would take care of everything, that he was on her side. He’d failed.

His comrades had taken John with them.

John. They had John.

"Colonel Carter?" But her voice was fading in her ears.

"We do not have much time." His thumb was still on the radio. "We require your assistance."

"I...I can't help you." She swiped one hand across her forehead. Her head pounded. Too hot, too cold--she couldn't tell.

"Daniel Jackson, she is injured and bleeding." The man still hadn't moved toward her.

She snorted, struggled to hold herself upright. "No thanks... to your Colonel Mitchell."

 _Mitchell who looked like Crichton._.. _it was a trap, a Scarran trap, a mind frell of some sort. She was still in Scarran custody, still under their control--_

She tried to stand but her knees buckled. Teal'c took a step toward her as she steadied herself. "Stay. Back," she gritted out.

He stood still, and nodded in acknowledgment. “As you wish."

"Listen...." The voice through the radio was earnest and calm; was he trying to lull her into a false security? "We not here to hurt you. I realize you feel like Mitchell betrayed you." There was a heavy sigh through the radio. "Please. We have your ship. Your companions.”

She looked up. He still dangled there, caught in the web of branches. She blinked against the light too bright in her eyes then her consciousness circled down the drain.

 

***

 


	4. A Rush of Blood to the Head

"Teal'c!" Daniel squinted down. Teal'c ran to the woman's side but he couldn't catch her before she slumped over and landed in a motionless heap.

"She is unconscious and badly injured."

"I have to figure out a way down.”

Teal'c looked at him then at the ground. "It does not appear to be a long fall. It is only twenty feet by my guess."

"’Only twenty’? Easy to say from down there."

Teal'c stood up and walked to the spot beneath the trees. “The ground has some pliability. I do not believe you have another choice." He stepped back.

Daniel took a deep breath and unbuckled one side of his harness. He dangled sideways then tried to strap himself back in. Instead, he fell, hitting the ground on his side, then rolled onto his back with the parachute tangling him inside.

Teal'c took a knife to it and pulled it away. His shoulder and ribs hurt like he'd been punched. He glanced up to where the lifeless body of Captain Jennings swayed in the breeze.

"We cannot take him," Teal'c said.

Daniel nodded. "I know."

Teal'c sheathed the knife and gathered the remnants of the parachute in his arms. "Let's hurry."

She lay where Teal'c had left her. Her leg bled through a large laceration in the shin. There was a hint of bone; it looked like an ugly break.

Teal'c found two large branches then he was on one knee again, ripping the parachute into strips to fashion a splint.

Daniel knelt down beside her and took her hand. Her skin was cold, grimy, breath shallow and uneven. He moved her hair away from her face. Eyes closed, long, straight hair, angular features...So much like Vala, but not.

_Vala’s charred remains in his arms, that moment before the Prior brought her back to life. A sinking in the pit of his stomach…_

She moaned, sounded like she was trying to say something. He leaned in close. Her hand was at his throat, squeezing his windpipe. Teal'c jumped to his feet but Daniel held out a hand to keep him back.

"No," he gasped. “I’m not your enemy.”

The grip around his throat hadn't subsided. He locked his hand around her wrist, dug his thumb in and squeezed until her fingers relaxed.

She responded with gibberish, glared at him. Brought her palm to his chest and pushed. He fell on his ass. She elbowed the soft ground, grimacing as she struggled to bring herself upright.

Teal'c kept his eyes on her while hers were locked on Daniel. Her gaze moved to the insignias on their flight suits, to Teal'c then back to him. She kept herself propped up at an angle.

"Satisfied?" he said.

She offered a thin smile. "DanielJackson." She mimicked Teal'c's pronunciation of his name. English, succinctly pronounced like it had been practiced over and over.

"Daniel. This is Teal'c. You are…?"

"Aeryn."

He nodded. "Aeryn. Will you let us help you?" He motioned to Teal’c.

"I've set it," she said. "Just bind it."

Teal'c nodded deferentially. Daniel held her steady as Teal’c repositioned her leg and placed the splint. She bit her lip, looked like she was doing her damnedest not to cry out.

“I’m sorry about that,” Daniel said.

She waved the apology away. “Did you bring help?”

“Until they send a rescue party.” He fiddled with his radio, found nothing but static. He shrugged. “This is it.”

“Just the two of you. You said you have John. Where is he?”

"With the remainder of our team,” Teal’c said.

"Look," Daniel said. "I know you have no reason to trust us. But we have both of you now. Maybe this didn’t go as planned.” He glanced up at the dusky sky. “What happened to the people who took you and Mitchell?”

“Dead.” She stared at her leg, reached for it then looked like she thought better of it.

“How can you be sure?”

“The… ” She snapped her fingers, trying to recall the word. “Transport.”

“Truck,” Daniel said.

She nodded. “Whatever. I killed two of them before the truck crashed. There were four.”

"The other two may be lying in ambush," Teal'c said.

“Don’t you suppose if they were, they would have already found me? No doubt they died in the crash.”

"You didn't," Daniel said.

"No. I didn't. Perhaps I'm just fortunate.” She was dehydrated, her wounds dirty, lips pale. At her best, Daniel imagined she'd willingly go toe to toe with him or Teal’c. Right now, she didn’t look like someone who could have taken down two people in the space of a few minutes.

“We should see what we can find,” Daniel said.

“Right.” She braced her palms against the ground and started a backward movement that made him think she was the one who planned to leave.

"You cannot walk." Teal'c stood up, dwarfed her. "You will only hinder our efforts to secure supplies if you insist on it.”

"Frell you." She stopped moving. “Fine. If you want to see what you can salvage, I suggest to head that way.”

Teal’c nodded. “Will you be all right here, Daniel Jackson?”

“Yeah. We will be.” He took the gun from his holster. “If you see anything, get back here right away. This seems like the best place to take cover at the moment.”

Teal’c gave her one last look, shook his head, then started toward the hillside.

"Tell me about the pod. What you did with Pilot."

"We have it. Your ship. Pilot.”

“What have you done with him?” She cleared her throat, started again. “He deserves to be buried in space with his kind. If you destroy him in any fashion--"

He caught the first sign of emotion in her voice. "We have all of it, everyone, secured. He hasn’t been destroyed or anything." Questions, and he didn't want to raise any false hope. "How far from the pod’s crash site could they have taken you?"

"I don't know,” she said softly. She leaned into his sore shoulder, eyelids fluttering like she was going to pass out.

“Aeryn. Aeryn?”

She closed her eyes, opened them like she’d gotten a shot of adrenaline. “I...I need hydration, I think," she said. "Hot...hotter than I'm used to."

“Aeryn. How did you get here?”

“I told you. Truck. Mitchell…” She took a deep breath, traced the cut on her forehead with her fingertips. “I hit my head…”

“Before that. How you got here. Earth.” He pointed to the ground.

"A wormhole.”

"Without a Stargate." The wormhole, in this reality or another.

"Star...gate? No. A wormhole. We were trying to close it, protect Earth. I thought he'd closed it."

"Protect Earth. From what? Aeryn?”

She swallowed hard. "Scarrans," she said flatly. "Scarrans. They'll char every metra if they come through. If they came through already." She glanced up at the sky. "Something caused you to crash."

"You think something followed you through the wormhole and shot us?”

"Do _you_ know what it was?"

He thought about it, realized he really hadn't had a chance to think about it. All he'd known were alarms, panic and then up and out in a sickening drop.

“Before. When we were here…before.” She stopped, took another breath. “Your military is supposed to be the mightiest on your planet. It was made to sound like a threat. You don’t know what threats you face.”

 _When we were here before...?_   “You've never been here before," he said.

"They went to Moya, examined us—This is Earth, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I can assure you. You've never been here before. We would know."

"How?"

"I..." How much could he reveal? She sat alongside him, pale, bleeding. A long way from home and defenseless.

Yet she had some information about Earth, at some place or time that seemed consistent. The U.S. military was the strongest on the planet. In spite of that, without a Stargate, without allies, the Goa'uld would have wiped them off the face of the planet.

"You talk about trust." Her voice was hoarse. "If anything happens to John, I swear I'll kill you even if it takes my last breath."

“We’re all in the same boat.” None of us belongs here…

She didn't respond. Her chin dipped toward her chest.

"Aeryn. Aeryn?" He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes but they gazed ahead blankly. He hit his radio. "Teal'c."

"Daniel Jackson."

"Did you find anything? I need water. She looks..." She looks like she's dying but he didn't want to say it.

"There are supplies scattered on the road before the truck exploded."

"So...everyone's dead."

"It appears so."

"Get what you can, and hurry.” He turned back to Aeryn. Her breathing was labored.

"He found something," she said thickly.

"Yes." He put his good arm around her. He heard one sigh, glanced at her. Same sharp profile, hair that fell past her shoulders but in a waterfall of black, not the wild abandon of Vala's hair.

_It came to him in a flash, as it did more and more, an image of his hands in Vala's hair, over her bare shoulders, then down, down, down—_

“It’s gonna be okay. Everything will be okay.”

 

***

 

John followed Vala and Carter up an elevator and through a series of passageways until they reached the command deck, or bridge, or whatever the hell they called it here.

Bigger than the Starship Enterprise, as far as he could see. No Mr. Spock, no Thors…not an alien in sight. A silver haired man sat in what John thought might be the Captain’s chair. Cameron Mitchell behind another crew member who manned a console. John counted maybe nine crew in all, plus the guys who stood guard over him.

“Colonel Pendergast,” Carter said to the captain.

“Colonel Carter.” He nodded to her, glanced at John, then back to Mitchell.

Mitchell nodded like he knew what the guy was thinking. _Yep, one of him, one of me. Hilarious._

Mitchell pulled Carter aside. "Thor was able to patch some spotty communications together. I gave them a quick rundown on our boy here. Let’s see if we can verify any part of his story.”

Carter nodded.

“General,” Pendergast said. “I apologize for the bad connection.”

Through the haze, the man frowned at them. General O'Neill, without a doubt. Even without the stars, there'd be no mistaking him for anyone but the guy in charge.

O'Neill looked past Mitchell. “Carter, where's your guy?"

The screen blinked out like a bad TV channel, static in and out but the voices were still strong.

"Carter, did I see Mal Doran there," O'Neill said. "Dammit, get this thing working. Carter?"

"We're working on it, Sir," Mitchell said.

“Carter?"

"I've got it under control, Sir," Carter said. "As promised."

The screen faded to black then was clear. O'Neill looked clearly unimpressed. He leaned in, appeared to grow in front of them. His expression was skeptical then his eyes went wide.

"I'll be goddamned." He pulled back from the screen as the other man moved from his chair to stand alongside O'Neill. The man's thin lips gave nothing away; his face was impassive even as his eyes looked from Mitchell to John then back to Mitchell.

"General O'Neill? What is this?"

"That's what we're getting to, Richard. Carter. That's your guy? ‘John Crichton’?”

“Yes, sir."

"General, that looks like Colonel Mitchell!" The other man pointed at the screen.

"You don't say. Mitchell, you sure this isn't your long lost twin?"

"Wish it were that easy, sir."

"Don't we all. Woolsey has some information for your new friend there."

"He's a threat to national security. By orders of the President, he's in your custody until you can get him here planet side. The entire mission will be then be turned over to IOA--"

"Sir," Carter said. "Sir, with all due respect, we're much better able to deal with this from here. The worm--"

O'Neill held up his hand to silence her. "Duly noted, Carter." He reached for the file that lay on the table next to him. His fingertips rested on top of it then he slid it back toward Woolsey. "So, 'John Crichton.' What's your story?"

Carter stepped forward before John could open his mouth. "Sir, he says his father is Lieutenant Colonel John Robert Crichton Sr. An astronaut for...NASA."

"He told you that." O'Neill leaned against the table, arms folded over his chest.

"Yes, sir. General, about Daniel and Teal'c--"

O'Neill raised a hand to wave off her question. "We’ve lost contact. Get Thor scanning for them. There's nothing else we can do about them right now." He paused. "Lieutenant Colonel Jack Crichton. Carter, I'm surprised you don't remember him. You were at his retirement dinner. You talked to his wife for quite awhile."

O'Neill's eyes flicked over her, then to Vala, then to Mitchell, finally resting on John. He looked as skeptical of them as he did of John.

_Talked to his wife for quite awhile._

Carter swallowed hard, nodded. "Of course. Yes. Sir, I guess all this..."

O'Neill nodded. "Got it. So...'John.' Jack and I haven't spoken in years but I do remember his retirement. You know, he was slated to go up on the Challenger but his son died before he could go. He never went into space again. Couldn't leave his family."

Woolsey had the open file in front of him. "Colonels, President Landry wants this man, the other one you're trying to retrieve, and Vala Mal Doran--all of it to Area 51."

"Samantha!" Vala stepped beside him. "General, if I may plead my case--"

John pushed past Vala, stepped to the front of the screen. "His wife. Is she alive? General?"

O'Neill stared him down, shook his head. "Carter, wanna take this one?"

Carter stammered. "Sir, it's been a long time..."

"Huh... Yeah. You're right. It has." O'Neill shrugged. "As far as I know, Mrs. Crichton is fine. Not heard anything to the contrary."

Nonchalant, when the answer meant everything to John. He took another step toward the portal, fist curled. Like that would make a difference.

Carter grabbed his arm. "John."

John shook her off. "General O'Neill, I need to see my father."

"General," Woolsey broke in. "May I remind you that the President was very specific about this."

O'Neill flicked the back of his hand toward Woolsey like he was nothing more than an annoying little fly. "You've made that point, Richard." He turned his attention back to the screen. "Colonel Mitchell, let's not stir up any hornets' nests here. Get these two locked up. As soon as you find Daniel and Teal'c let me know. O'Neill out."

The screen went blank. Just like that. No explanations, no questions.

He turned to Sam. “You know my mother. You know how this goes, Samantha. Don't tell me you don't. This. All this." He opened his arms wide, closed them again. "This mess we're tangled in."

Mitchell held out his hand to Carter in invitation. "Well. I can't explain it."

Carter nodded. "The multi verse theory of quantum physics--"

"Or one of you, one of me, leading millions of possible realities....and we're in the wrong one. All of us."

“Colonel Mitchell?” Pendergast said.

“Ignore him, Colonel. Crichton, shut up, will you?”

_He was standing outside a wormhole, looking down into an abyss, an infinity of places and possibilities..._

_Absolute engrossment is key...._

_Musta taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque..._

"The longer we stay, the worse it'll get," John said. "The further away we get from setting this straight, the more likely we are to be stuck here forever." He turned to Mitchell. "Have you talked to your folks?" He looked at Carter. "Or yours?"

"My father's dead," Carter said.

"Yeah, so's my mother. If we don't set this right, a whole lot of other people will be too."

"What the hell does that mean?" Mitchell stepped forward, hands at his side, too near the gun on his thigh for John's taste.

"I mean something is not right. We don't have time for details."

"Oh, I think we do."

Samantha Carter slid in front of him, held out her hand to stop him. "Cam." She turned to John. "What's the last thing you remember before you crashed?"

"Trying not to die. Our Pilot...He wasn't meant to be in that pod for that long a time--"

Vala yanked on his arm, cleared her throat. He pulled away then turned, saw it: Guns pointed at him.

"Cam!" Carter said.

"What is all this?” Mitchell said. He faced the squad, his hand moving to the holster on this thigh. "Stand down.”

"Sirs, we're under direct orders from General O'Neill. We're to take them into custody now."

"Like hell." John turned toward Vala, then back toward the men. Swung like an idiot.

One man grabbed his fist, twisted his arm behind him. John felt a pop, then pain through his neck and shoulder.

He squirmed, ignored the burning in his arm. Mitchell jumped into the fray, caught him by the collar.

"Goddammit, you're not helping yourself," Mitchell said. "You need to calm down."

"You need to let me go." He pulled forward, slipped out of Mitchell's grasp. Hands, guns--he kicked, caught someone in the groin as the guy doubled over. Twisted, arm on fire...tried head butt someone else in the stomach.

Vala was there, the olive green of her flight suit stark against her long dark hair. She chewed on her lip, foot tapping, brows knit with worry. She shook her head at him, but made no move to fight or flee.

He saw it right before he felt it. One bolt of blue white light. The room seemed to dust Vala's hair, face, clothes. Colors melded together like one giant trip down the rabbit hole. Mitchell's voice came from somewhere far away as he hit the deck.

 

 

***

 

_He lies in a field, arms stretched out, the sun’s heat radiating against his bare skin. The grass around him thick and tall. He squints against a bright blue sky._

_Lazy like a summer Sunday afternoon. Nothing ahead of him but another day where he wouldn’t have to worry about school, or chores, or whether his father was returning home._

_Dad…dad was at the stream, fishing. Visiting grandma’s house out where she knew all the neighbors by name, where they’d known his father almost from the day he was born. People she went to church with, people who brought casseroles and sat with you when someone died._

_The house had meant peace and quiet, family, calm._

_Lying here now, he smiles at the memories. Grateful he has the good ones to cling to, grateful that he’s still able to push pass the bad._

_“John.” Aeryn’s fingers graze his lips, reaching for the blade of grass he holds between his teeth. “What’s that?”_

_He plucks it from his mouth and hands it to her, watches as her long black hair spills forward, covering her bare breasts._

_She pinches the thick, green blade between her fingers. Examines it like she expects it to do something, then brings it to her nose, sniffs, regards it and him with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. “Does it taste like anything?”_

_“Like you. It makes me happy.”_

_Her smile lights her up, transforms her from the woman he knows to the little girl she never was. There’s innocence in it, something he only sees when she smiles like that. It makes him feel like her world is entrusted in his hands. A peace and perfection to her smile that settles him._

_“I never thought I’d like your planet, but I like this place.” She moves her hair behind her shoulder and tucks in close to him. He’s warm in his center, feels himself aroused but neither of them are in any particular hurry. They’re alone, undisturbed. All the time in the world._

_“My folks loved it here…Mom…this was her favorite place. We can live here. Stay here forever.” He encircles her with his other arm, turns to face her and holds her in his arms._

_“Grandma Crichton’s.” She nods against him. “The baby…the baby would like it here, I think.”_

_“Mm-hmm.” His lips have found hers; she parts them slightly, then she pulls back. He reaches out, moves strands of hair away from her face._

_“I’m tired… I don’t want to run anymore. I don’t want to fight anymore.” Her eyes look past him. Somewhere else. To someone else._

_“I know.” The real her, the part he can feel, the part that lights up when she looks at him…it’s here in front of him._

_He’s tired too, tired of making messes of everything._

_“The baby…” She lays her head against his chest. “The baby is yours, John.”_

_Was that what he was waiting for? He knows this much, had finally acknowledged it and accepted it: If she was his, then every part of her was too._

_He pulls her to him slowly, lips and bodies fusing._

_“Aeryn…”_

 

***

 

“John!”

He blinked. Vala’s face blossomed into view. She was on her knees beside him, hands hovering over him like she was contemplating where to touch him first.

“Oh, thank God!” She sat back on her heels. “You...you've been down for quite a while.”

“I--” He shook his head and struggled to get up. Stretched, felt his shoulder get pissed off in response.

“No, don't do that.” She winced a little. “They just put that back together. In here. In front of me.” She shuddered. “I heard a terrible pop...I...I thought they'd done something else to you. You didn't move.”

His head was swimming in the images it had conjured up.

_Aeryn. Earth. Home. Dad. Mom._

_…Mom…?_

“John?” Vala snapped her fingers in front of him. “Come on. Stay with me. What is wrong with you?”

“Someone _shot_ me. Who the hell shot me with that thing—You?“ He shook his head; it responded by pounding behind his eyes.

She shook her head. “Sam. It’s a zat. Better that than the alternative. Those men had guns and they were ready to use them. You know, they’d have no compunction about shooting either of us. What were you thinking?”

“Nope. I'm done answering your questions. They put you in here for a reason.”

She stood above him, hands on her hips, her smile mocking him. “Go ahead. Tell me why.”

“It’s a game, a way for them to gain my trust, to trick me into doing something because you look like Aeryn—“ He wouldn’t be fooled again.

She smirked. “Not _everything’s_ about you. Apparently in this reality, I’m quite the prize. Smuggling, thievery—I really have no idea of the extent of my crimes, though I could probably venture a pretty good guess. But I do know this. It’s only through Sam’s good graces and sway over the general that I’m not rotting in some cell at Area 51. And who knows how long that will last.”

She crouched down next to him, whispered in his ear. “So, you’re not the only one with problems, John. And you don’t know everything there is to know about _me_.”

“Fine.” He held out his good arm. She grasped his wrist, helped pull him to his feet then released him. The room spun around him. He closed his eyes to steady himself.

Vala reached for him but he swatted her away. “So, if you’re so valuable, how did we both end up here, together?”

“Thank Mitchell for that one. Those men—they’re not necessarily under the same chain of command but he holds some sway.”

“Well, lucky us. Since you’re such a world class criminal, you're getting us out of here.”

“To go where, exactly. We're in a ship, for heaven's sake. A ship? In space? Far from anywhere? And you said it yourself. You don’t even know where all this will lead.”

He scanned the room: a set of bunk beds, no toilet or sink, no footlocker. Just bunks. No matter her protests, it wasn't by accident that they'd put her in here with him. She could have gone to a separate cell easily. It would have actually made a lot more sense from O’Neill’s perspective.

But O’Neill hadn’t ordered them here, together. Mitchell had.

A lifeline? Or a trick.

He moved unsteadily to the lower bunk and sat down, his head in his hands. Bones, muscles--it was like he’d crashed into a wall. He moved his jaw back and forth, stretched his shoulder just a little.

“That Star Trek thing...” His hands muffled his words. “The thing you used to get me here...”

“What? Star Trek?” She paused then nodded with a grin. “Oh, right. The beaming technology. No. We're not doing that.”

“But you know how.”

“I know a lot of things.”

“Who's watching on the other side of that camera?”

She glanced up and waved. “Colonel Mitchell, I'd imagine. Samantha's likely too busy trying to get us out of this mess.”

“Can you disable it?”

“The camera?”

“Yes, the camera.” His head was throbbing now, the pain in his injured jaw radiating upward.

“And what happens then? I suppose you're proposing that we take them down, one at a time, as they come through the door...” She glanced around the room. “We can unbolt the bed—no, wait. That might require tools. We can hit them with the pillows, throw the blanket over their heads—I was a thief, not a fighter. I mean, I know my way around a weapon, and I’ve had my share of fights but--”

He held out his hand. “I get it.”

“I don't think you do.” She leaned against the bed, arms crossed over her chest. “We’re weaponless. Even if I could get us out of here—and, make no mistake, I probably could, given enough time--I don’t have the technology at my disposal to get us where we’d want to go. Of course, the fact that this isn’t my world doesn’t help. I have no idea what’s out there. Even I know when to regroup.”

“You don't understand...”

“No? I don't understand what it's like to have your world turned upside down, to find out you may have changed the fate of a universe? And I’m not only talking about this little trip of yours.” She shook her head, then sat down beside him. She stared straight ahead, pensive.

“Daniel and Teal'c,” she began. “If they were sent to retrieve her, then they will retrieve her. If General O'Neill is anything like the general we know, I have no doubt he'll help us too.”

“There are hell of a lot of 'ifs' in that statement.”

She nodded. “Yes. Aren't there always?” She put her hand over his. “Your parents…your mother…”

“Off topic,” he said. “I need to see my father.”

“For what it's worth? If I were you, I’d want to see her again.”

“And what good would that do? You said it. We're not supposed to be here, in any context. Tell her, 'guess what mom, I'm alive and you're dead. For real.' It doesn't work that way.” He grabbed the bed post and leveraged himself to his feet. Went to the door and kicked it. The sound reverberated through the room.

“You're not going to kick down that door.”

“Not if you keep yammering at me.” He turned his attention back to the door.

“SG1 believes in second chances. So do I, as it happens. Is that what you need to fix?”

He glanced at her. She stared at him without guile, waiting.

“You think we have a second chance to ‘fix’ something. Hell, this is such a fuck up, ‘fix’ is an understatement. Where the hell do I start?” He turned to the door and rested his forehead against it.

_He was standing at a hospital doorway, watching his mother sleep. She was fitful, her face twisted with pain as IV lines draped her body. He hadn't wanted to wake her, even when the sleep was uneven._

He knew it then, he knew it now. And he'd faced her once already to know that there was no going back. You didn't get do-overs.

He leaned against the door, looked at Vala Mal Doran. Her face held the barest trace of a smile, her eyes inviting She looked small and alone against the grey blankets.

“I let Aeryn down,” he said. “She shouldn't have come with me. I let her down.”

Vala shook her head. “Not yet. We’re not done with this yet.”

“Yeah?” He gave the door another kick. “Hard to do much when I’m sitting here locked up with a reminder.”

_In the pod, Aeryn standing beside Pilot. Snapping her fingers in his face, bracing herself against the console and chair, trying to kickstart him back to life. Useless, as Pilot's eyes closed for the last time, his death sending a quiet over the pod—_

“So, you'll just try to knock down a metal door. Is that it?” Vala stood up and went to where he stood until they were nose to nose. He tried to turn away but she grabbed his arm and held him back. He almost expected a punch to the gut. Instead, she was smiling.

“What’re you doing? We need to get out of here.”

“Yes. But we need a much better plan. Yours isn’t doing much more than leaving scuff marks for some hapless corporal to clean up.”

O’Neill didn’t trust her, but apparently trusted Carter quite a bit… So far she'd copped to being an ace thief of some sort, implied that she'd broken out of something, and had enough of a history to warrant being locked up. What good was any of that to him?

As if to answer the question, she pinned him against the door, surprisingly strong, and put her mouth to his ear. “We're out of camera range, right here,” she whispered.

“Yeah. There's not room for two.” Her body pressed against him clouded his head.

_Aeryn, always Aeryn._

“You're going to attack me. Make it look good.”

“Are you nuts? Guns on the other side? Remember that detail?”

“Details!” She took his hands in hers, raised them to her chest. “Go ahead, push me.” Her eyes mocked him— _so you want to do something? Do it._

He pushed, harder than he'd planned. She stumbled, fell. Thudded her head on the floor. She blinked up at him in surprise. Gave him a brief nod.

He rushed to her side, fell on his knees, face near hers and his back to the camera. She grabbed his coveralls, pulled him toward her. Head butted him. Pain rattled his skull some more.

She sat up, rubbed her forehead for just a moment then knocked him to the ground. Straddled him. Smiled.

She was crazy.

Bolts clicked on the other side of the door.

“I'm very sorry about this.” She slid her knee up between his legs, faster than he could respond, landing him squarely in the crotch.

Pain flamed through his gut, breath caught in his throat. She peeled off him and he rolled onto his side, curled up in the fetal position, legs weak, groin throbbing.

The door opened. Guns? It hurt to even move his head. He saw the tips of Vala’s shiny black boots as someone pulled her to her feet.

“Colonel Mitchell, we have a situation.” The voice was male, near his ear. “We need medical assistance.”

Mitchell's voice sounded over the radio. “I saw it all. Get him to medical, right now. I'll deal with Vala.”

The men grabbed him under each arm and hauled him up. He wasn't sure where to hurt first—balls, shoulder, head. He shuffled between the two men, his eyes on her as she waved at him, a satisfied smile on her face.

 

 

***

 

 

The men escorted him through corridors, half dragging him until they reached what looked like a medical facility. They dropped him onto a gurney, explaining to the person on duty that John had taken one in the balls.

“I'll take care of him, Sergeant,” she said. “But you'll be right outside?”

The Sergeant nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”

“I'm sure we'll be fine.” She turned to John. “Right?”

“Sure.”

The Sergeant left them alone. John lay on the gurney. The room had a series of beds but he was the only occupant. The throb in his groin had subsided a little.

“I guess that was one way to get out of the cell,” she said. She extended a small hand, surprisingly strong when he shook it. “Dr. Janet Frasier,” she said. “John, is it?”

“Yeah.” He moved to sit up.

“Lie back, please.”

“I'm good. I need to see Mitchell or Carter.”

“Let's get this taken care of first.”

He lay back, stared at the grey ceiling as she examined him. He winced at the pain in his shoulder; she left his private parts alone, thank god.

“Vala,” he began. “She gonna be okay?”

_Maybe there’s something you need to fix._

“Vala Mal Doran is lucky she's up here and not in Area 51,” Frasier said. “She'll be fine.”

_SG1 believes in second chances…_

_Think, Johnny boy._

_Second chances._

_My folks loved it here…Mom…this was her favorite place. We can live here. Stay here forever_

_Her space/time signature will be familiar._

_Powerful._

_Mom's ring on Aeryn's finger._

_The ring. Lost._

_Aeryn. Lost._

_Mom. Lost._

_Mom’s ring on Aeryn’s finger._

_Dammit, Einstein!_

_Fear. Fear is the answer._

_What are you afraid of, Johnny_?

“Oh, god,” he said.

Frasier stepped back, concern creasing her brow. “What is it?”

He shook his head. “I need to see Carter. I think I know.” He laid the backs of his hands over his eyes. “Please. I'm good. Just let me see Carter.”

“All right…Just...just don't go anywhere.” Frasier turned and stepped away.

He closed his eyes.

_He stood on the ice floe, the area around him shrinking fast, just enough room for both his feet, and only if he held very still…_

_No room for error._

_Your next journey - may lead - to a permanent…_

_To a permanent..._

_To a permanent unrealized reality._

“I understand.” He said it out loud. “Do you hear that, old man? I understand.”

 

 


	5. Resistance

“What is this madness?” Ahkna pounded the console in front of her. “Have you made contact with Pennoch or our second ship yet?”

Two of the guard looked at her, then at each other, their eyes shamed “No, War Minister,” one of them finally said. “We believe we are experiencing complications due to the wormhole.”

She moved to the comms, stared at the screen. None of it made sense. “Get one of those frelling Kalish techs here at once.”

“War Minister, the Emperor wishes to see you.” The crew mate looked sorry to deliver the news.

“He has no right to summon me in the midst of this mission.”

“I have every right.” Staleek came up behind her towering over her so that she was in his shadow. His hand was big enough to clamp around her neck, and he wasted no time doing so. She held herself still and proud.

“Leave us,” he said to the remaining crew. They snapped to his command and streamed out, leaving her with a wormhole filled view screen and blinking consoles.

“What is the meaning of this?” She kept her voice low and icy. “Pennoch was able to follow Crichton through the wormhole and will engage in the assault on his planet. We need additional Strykers—“ She was War Minister. There was nothing that required her to provide additional details. A second ship was through. A third was waiting.

“The Peacekeepers are amassing ships, or have you forgotten your duties on this side of the wormhole?”

“I’ve forgotten nothing. You ordered Pennoch to Crichton’s planet for your crystherium—“

“ _Our_ crystherium. You forget your place, War Minister. Their mission at the moment is accomplished. Do you think Crichton’s planet could possibly have the defenses necessary to defeat them?”

“We don’t know yet, which is why…I require... Additional ships.”

The hands on her throat tightened just enough to squeeze off her next breath. Her feet grazed the surface beneath her as he lifted her easily; she relaxed against the pressure on her throat. To do otherwise would have shown defiance not submission. Defiance would have to wait.

He released his hold on her; she stumbled against her chair. With disgust, he turned his back to her. “We should abandon this mission,” he said. “It is a foolish use of resources.”

“Which we have at our disposal. I’m following your orders, Emperor.” She bit off the last word. “Crichton destroyed Katratzi. He killed our people. He destroyed our matriarch, but, mostly, he’s made a fool of you.” She’d struck a nerve. He’d been outmatched by a motley group of escaped prisoners who were nothing but lesser species.

“Imagine. A human bringing us to our knees. A human. That’s something less than a Sebacean, as I understand it. A half breed, a Peacekeeper traitor… A Hynerian. The Charrids eat them.” She dared to laugh. “Do you truly wish to let this crime go unpunished?”

His pacing brought him in front of her, one hand outstretched. She had a feeling that he was likely to snap her neck like it was nothing more than the skinny stalk on a crystherium. Then he let his arm fall to his side.

“I will not let that stand,” he said. “You have leave to continue your contact with Pennoch. One squadron of our Strykers should give Crichton’s people reason enough to curse his name. But, be warned, Ahkna.” He turned toward her, glaring down. “Should any failure taint this mission, it’s your name that will be cursed.”

She bowed her head in acknowledgment. “As you command it, Emperor.”

He growled at that then brushed past the guards at the door. She sank into her chair as her people filed back into command.

“Continue communication efforts and follow their last coordinates. I want three squads on Pennoch’s trajectory.” Her gaze swept the room. “Now!”

Pennoch. She dared not tell him that Pennoch and his crewmate were already lost.

 

***

 

 

He’d failed. When John had jettisoned Scorpius and Sikozu out an airlock, D’Argo thought he’d seen the last of them. And now here they were, all of them headed to Pilot’s den to see what they might be able to salvage of their losses.

He’d lost count of the number of times he’d held the word “Pilot” in his mouth.

The space Pilot had once occupied was cavernous without him. Chiana pulled up short, tugged on his arm. “I don’t hear anything. He’s really gone.”

Noranti lingered over the controls. Eyes closed, hands held in front of her as she murmured what sounded like a prayer. She didn’t open her eyes as they approached.

 _Zhaan. Talyn. Aeryn. John. Pilot._ He’d allowed too many casualties.

“You shouldn’t have brought him here,” she said. “Scorpius dishonors her. Moya doesn’t want him here.”

“Neither do we,” Rygel said.

“He says he can help us with…” With what? It was unlikely they’d get Moya in the air, much less through a wormhole.

_Hope…I have hope or I have nothing._

John’s words were never clearer to him. D’Argo lowered his weapon.

Nortanti shook her head, opened her eyes. “I’ve done all I can. She’s in pain, D’Argo. And I can’t heal it. I can’t. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” D’Argo laid a hand on her shoulder, kept his voice gentle. The old woman shivered. “We’ll take it from here.”

“Can’t do it, can’t do it,” she muttered.

“We could use some food,” he said. “Why don’t you fix us all a meal? Chiana can help—“

“I’m staying here. With you, and fek face.”

“Rygel?” He nodded his head toward Noranti.

“Yes, yes, yes. Come with me, Noranti. My stomachs need attention. Trust me, the noise would be most distracting.” Rygel slid to her, gave her a little push which seemed to shake her out of her trance and got her feet moving. “That’s it… Food. Let’s go.”

D’Argo breathed out.

Sikozu stood on her toes to see over the top of the console. No matter what had become of John and Aeryn, whether they’d landed, been captured, if they still lived, he had no doubt that Pilot was dead. Too much time had passed.

“You’re the Leviathan expert,” he said, motioning his head at her. “What can you tell us?”

She glanced at Scorpius; he gave the barest of nods then she climbed onto the console and over.

“This is life support.” She didn’t touch the control. “And, as we can all attest, it’s activated.”

“How do you know?” Chiana said. “We’re grounded right now. How can you say for sure it’s going to be ‘activated’ when she gets out of here?”

“I am familiar with these controls,” Sikozu said, with ice in her voice. “You are not.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t think you should be back there. I don’t trust you.”

“Ka D’Argo?” Scorpius broke in. “A word?”

“Not now. Stark, go help Noranti. Chiana. Just—Just let her do what she needs to do—” Other than Pilot, the only other person with any proven ability at the controls was Aeryn and they were both—

“Dead,” Stark said. “D’Argo. Dead. They’re all dead. Dead. Dead. Dead—“

“Enough!” He didn’t need chanting and prayers and arguments—he needed someone to fly the frelling ship off this rock and through the wormhole.

Chiana stepped away from the console, hands held loosely at her sides. She led with her nose, sniffing him out. “He’s right,” she said quietly. “Stark’s right. I know you don’t wanna believe it. I don’t.”

“He’s not,” Scorpius said.

“And you know this because?” D’Argo said.

“I won’t trouble you with details. I am sure John, at least, is not dead. I can’t vouch for his companions. At the moment, though, that may be the least of your worries. War has broken out, Ka D’Argo, and John may be the only person who can help us.”

“By ‘us’ you mean ‘you’,” Chiana said. “You and the Peacekeepers. Why would anyone want to frell with us?”

“You may have forgotten that we destroyed Katratzi and their matriarch,” Sikozu said. “I can assure you, the Scarrans have not.”

Scorpius nodded. “It won’t take long for the Scarrans to find you here, D’Argo. As I see it, you can ally yourself with me and not repeat Crichton’s mistake, or you can proceed at your own risk. No Pilot, no Aeryn, no Crichton.” He smiled, trying to look benign. “I may be your only means of locating any of them before the Scarrans find you.”

D’Argo looked at each of them. Chiana stood with her chin leading, face tilted up, blind as the bats that lived in Moya’s effluent. Stark’s one eye was fixed on him in an intense stare.

“D’Argo, listen to him. Please.” Sikozu had both hands on the console. The expression on her face was despair. Despair at their loss or at her own lack of knowledge about the controls in front of her, he couldn’t say.

He took a deep breath and turned away. He wanted to throw Scorpius down the walkway, watch him fall into Moya’s depths, hope that he died and stayed dead this time. Then what? Sikozu might help him at the point of his Qualta blade and then what?

He couldn’t fly the module. He could take Lo’La, hover outside the wormhole waiting for…what? Return to John’s Earth and be taken for invaders this time? If John had failed to close the wormhole, that meant a Scarran vanguard had already gotten through. Why would Earth see him as anything other than an invader? They’d barely treated them as anything more, and John had been with them the last time.

“Chiana. You did that—” He waved his hand in front of his eyes. “That thing with your vision. What was it?”

A smile crept over her face. She nodded, hair shaking wildly. “Right. Right. Command sequences for regulatory systems—”

“Which will keep us breathing and alive once we’re out of this planet’s atmosphere.” Sikozu wore an equally triumphant look.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Chiana put her hand on the console then hoisted herself over and alongside Sikozu.

“So, can you get Moya in the air?” One small mercy.

Sikozu examined the console, hands going back and forth like she was working out the sequences. Then she looked at him and nodded, still smiling. “Yes. Moya’s databanks will do most of the navigational calculations. We can go back to the wormhole.”

“Perfect—” The ship swayed under their feet. He grabbed the console for balance, Stark hanging on his arm, and the two girls behind the console leaning into it and one another.

“She’s afraid,” Stark said. “Wormhole. She doesn’t want to go into the wormhole.”

“Oh, for Cholok’s sake.” Scorpius stepped to the console. “Sikozu, can you override her concerns?”

“Scorpius, she’s a living being…”

D’Argo turned to Scorpius. “We are not going into the wormhole with her.” He pointed a finger at Scorpius’ chest. “Possibly not even with you.” He gazed upwards, all around, looked past the emptiness behind the console. “Moya? We won’t do that to you. No wormhole. I promise.”

There was a shudder beneath his feet, not much more than a mild ground shake then she was still. Even Scorpius looked impressed, for all D’Argo cared.

“We’ll go in Lo’La.”

“Where is Crichton’s module?” Scorpius said. “I suggest we take that.”

D’Argo held the Qualta blade at chest level with Scorpius. “Chiana, Sikozu, see what you can do to work out the sequences. Stark, stay with them. Scorpius—” He tilted the blade toward the passageway. “Come with me.”

 

 

***

 

 

The module sat in the maintenance bay alongside Aeryn’s Prowler. The Prowler’s canopy was open; she’d left tools and supplies neatly stacked at the foot of the stairs, every intention of coming back and resuming her maintenance. In contrast, the module sat closed up and off to the side, an afterthought.

Scorpius walked past the Prowler and straight to the module, fingering the controls to open the canopy before D’Argo could stop him.

“Ah, yes. D’Argo, do you remember the last time Crichton flew this?”

“No.”

Scorpius stepped away from the module, turned to him, smiled. “You do. He flew it with me, against your wishes and your…ah…’better judgment.’ When did _you_ last fly with him?”

“What’s your point?”

“Crichton. Aeryn. Me. What we all have in common.”

“John would never want you in his ship.”

“Do you want to see your friends again? As many of them as you can save? Crichton’s Earth?”

Scorpius didn’t wait for an answer as he climbed into the module and settled into the seat. “Crichton calls it ‘ringing like a fire-bell. And while I have little idea of what Crichton meant by that, let’s find out if his module took readings or if all the knowledge is stored in his brain…which would be most unfortunate.”

He reached for the controls like he belonged there. D’Argo grabbed Scorpius’ wrist, released it when the control panel came alive.

“There it is.” Scorpius sat back, satisfied. “ A thing of beauty.”

“What did you do?”

Scorpius paused. “You misunderstand me. So much. I am willing to provide Peacekeeper protection for Moya now, just as before. We could reach a mutually beneficial conclusion, yet you question my motives and actions.”

“If you don’t get out of there now, I’ll hurt more than your feelings.” He stepped back, drew out his blade but Scorpius was unimpressed. His fingers hovered over a panel like he was playing a game of chance.

D’Argo slid the blade back into its sheath. The panel was running rows of information that meant nothing to him.

“What are you looking for?”

“The key.” Scorpius looked at the panel once more then shut everything down. “Just a piece, really. The piece we need to find Crichton.”

D’Argo stepped back as Scorpius pulled himself out of the module. “Well? Or didn’t you take a big enough chunk of John’s brain to figure it out.”

“I’ve obtained enough information to get us through the wormhole. I will feed the calculations into your ship.”

“Wait…you think you can get us to Earth. With whatever you found there.”

Scorpius tapped his finger to the side of his head. “I am certain.”

“One thing I know for certain—you’re not flying this ship. We’ll take it but not with you as its pilot.”

“No matter.” Scorpius brushed his palms together like he was wiping away D’Argo’s concerns.

Hope bloomed in front of him like the wormhole: John, Aeryn, Pilot, back on Moya where they belonged.

And beholden to Scorpius.

 

***

 

“It’s right here…right?”

Sikozu’s voice was close to her ear. Chiana slid further down the panel, fingertips feeling her way along so she wouldn’t sit on or move anything.

“How should I know? I can’t see a thing.”

“Chiana, you said three right, four down. Correct?”

Chiana nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Regulatory systems, command sequences.” She squeezed her eyes shut, found herself in complete darkness. Open, there were shadows, little more than orbs of light.

Behind her eyes was where she could see the most. Her brain was like a recording and she not only remembered the sequences but everything around them at the time: Pilot moving in slow motion, Stark panting near her ear.

Then there were the things further back, things that seemed brighter to her now. It wasn’t just her eyesight. It was all of it—gone. Crichton, goofing around with his module while she stood a distance back, content to see how happy and unconcerned he could be when he was lost in the moment. Aeryn cleaning her weapons here in the den, Pilot sharing his stories of his life before he’d come aboard Moya while Aeryn nodded and worked, murmuring the occasional response.

If all she had left were those visions, she felt she’d go mad.

“Chiana!” D’Argo’s voice made her jump. Behind her, she sensed Sikozu’s stillness. The whir of Rygel’s thronesled was unmistakable in the silence. She positioned her hands behind her and stepped lightly off the console to the floor.

“Sikozu, did you get the sequences figured out?” he said.

“Yes.”

His footsteps came closer until his hand was gently on her arm. “We need to talk. That includes you, Sikozu.”

“Where is Scorpius?” Sikozu sounded suspicious.

“Back in his cell, locked up. He has a plan.”

“A plan. That can’t be good,” Chiana said. “Ryg?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Noranti? Stark?” She hadn’t smelled anything nor heard his incessant muttering.

“If the three of us agree, they’re outvoted,” D’Argo said. “Sikozu. How far can you take Moya if we have to leave?”

“Well, thanks to Chiana, we’ll have life support. I’ve confirmed the location of Moya’s navigational records so we know we can get back to places we’ve been. I’m not as certain of new locations, however.”

“Scorpius thinks he can get us through the wormhole. We’d take Lo’La and tow Crichton’s module—”

“Uh-uh! No way!” Chiana pulled away from him. “If you’re planning something with Scorpius, he’s gonna screw us. Just like he always does.”

“You’re wrong.” Sikozu said. “You’re wrong, Chiana. Scorpius has had one agenda: Defeat the Scarrans. Crichton and his wormholes could be the key to that. If Crichton didn’t close the wormhole, they’ll attack his planet. If he did, then there’s nothing to be done.”

She wanted to kick Sikozu’s eema—kick them all, take Moya, fly free…she wanted her frelling eyes back. The room was still. Were they waiting for her?

“You’re gonna do whatever you want,” she said.

“No. I’m just running out of options. Are either of you happy with staying here when there might be some way to get them back?”

Aeryn was pregnant. Would she want to raise her child on Earth with John’s people? Humans were almost as bad as Peacekeepers and a whole lot worse when it came to nosing into everyone else’s business. Their child would be an oddity, a half breed in a world of people who barely liked each other.

“What about Moya?” Sikozu said. “What if you don’t return?”

“We should bring her,” Chiana said. “Moya…Moya wouldn’t want to be abandoned here. Not through the wormhole but up there where she belongs. And we need to tell Stark and Noranti. We have to all agree.”

“I can stay with Moya,” Sikozu said. “But no harm should come to Scorpius.”

“Frell,” Rygel said softly. “This plan is fahrbot. Are we supposed to just fly in without any idea of where we’re going?”

“Something like that. Yes,” D’Argo said.

“Coms,” Sikozu said. “Like when you found Crichton before. The pod’s coms should serve as a beacon. That should give you a reasonable approximation of where to find him.”

Chiana reached out, found Rygel’s stubby little hand resting on the arm of his thronesled. “Come on, Ryg. How much worse is this than the usual?”

His fingers moved until they found hers. “Well, then,” he said. “We’re in agreement. If nothing else, it’s a off this planet. Or a quick route to our demise.”

Chiana pulled him close and leaned forward, finding his head and kissing it. “So what else is new?”

 

 

***

 

 

Sikozu had managed to slip away from the others, leaving them to load minimal supplies into Lo’La. Rygel and Noranti had been tasked with assuring Moya everything would be fine.

She wasn’t so sure.

She hadn’t doubted her decision to leave the ship and join Scorpius. He’d been her only ally much of the time, his cause certainly joined to hers: Defeat the Scarrans. But there was a part of her that had missed Moya, missed the camaraderie she’d been building with Aeryn, missed Crichton’s curiosity, and the Leviathan’s calming presence.

She’d wasted no time in following Scorpius on this mission, hoping that she’d act as an intermediary. Not really knowing how far outside the group she’d been cast.

His voice carried to her in the passageway, hushed tones near a whisper. “Do you understand me, Braca? Wait for my signal then follow it and make sure they follow yours…yes. Yes, dispatch a Marauder for that purpose. You will need her. That will be all.”

She stopped, pressed herself against the wall. Waited.

“Sikozu?”

She cleared her throat, pushed away from the wall and approached the cell. “Yes, it’s me.”

Scorpius smiled at her, reached a hand past the bars of the cell. “And you’re alone?”

“I am. Who were you talking to?”

“I’ve been in contact with Braca—”

“How long did you plan to keep this from me?”

“Just long enough for you to not feel a split allegiance. Don’t look so surprised. Surely you realized this little mission of ours is twofold.”

“You used me.”

“To gain a foothold here? Perhaps, though it was a gamble. Your crew mates didn’t exactly fight to make you stay.”

“You said you wanted Crichton for his wormholes—That was your point, wasn’t it? To find Crichton, convince him that your assistance meant he owed you.”

“True.” He lounged against the wall. “But you and I both know Crichton can be suicidal and foolhardy. Surely his assault on Katratzi and this ridiculous attempt to close the wormhole proves that. He’d rather kill himself than assist me.”

“D’Argo…the others…” But she knew the answer. There was no way D’Argo would have allowed himself to be played.

“Crichton’s a little less reckless with the lives of others. Aeryn Sun. Her child. The more he has weighing on him, the more carefully he has to consider his choices.”

She laughed, enough to elicit a disapproving sound from him. “This is the same man who stormed a heavily armed base to rescue her. Do you honestly think he’ll be more careful?”

“No matter.” Scorpius waved her questions away. “His crew mates will get us to him because they won’t be able to live with themselves if they don’t try.”

She put a hand against the wall, sucked in a breath. Knew he was right, that he was playing on their sentiment. No, it was more than sentiment. It was true caring. It was a family…and one of which she’d never quite been a part.

“And Braca’s role in this?”

He pushed away from the grate. “You can ascertain what my plan might be.”

“I have a vague notion….”

“Sikozu, what are the Scarrans doing currently?”

“They’re in Peacekeeper space, waging a war, all their forces aligned…”

“For now.”

“Until Braca’s ships follow you…?”

“He has his orders.”

“You’re splitting their forces.”

“Providing a distraction. And once they attack Earth, Crichton might find that his wormhole knowledge is the only way to save his home world. He’s very touchy on that subject. The Scarrans are already after him. They’ve dispatched several Strykers away from Ahkna’s ship. None have returned.”

“And you believe they’ve followed Crichton to Earth? Are you so willing to destroy it?” Technology that made no sense, continuous scrutiny. They were primitive, xenophobic, paranoid—were they any worse than any other species she’d encountered? Peacekeepers, Scarrans, even her own people, all of them acting as though they were the most entitled to all that the universe had to offer when there was clearly enough to go around.

“I don’t think that’s the most obvious choice,” she finished.

“Well, then.” He reached through the bars, patted her once on the cheek. “It’s a fortuitous thing I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He pushed away from the bars. “But, truly, Sikozu, your worries are unfounded. Certainly, collateral damage could arise but my interest is in the Scarrans at the moment. If Crichton wants my help in defeating them, all he need do is ask.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“What purpose does it serve me to attack his home world? I’ll let the Scarrans do that. I’m here only to serve. As are you. Should the opportunity present itself, do not forget which side you chose. We need to do whatever is necessary to save our people.”

She let that sink in, nodded. Of that, there was no doubt at all.

“Scorpius!” D’Argo’s voice preceded his footsteps but he stopped when he saw her, looked from one to the other with narrowed eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“She wanted to ensure you weren’t mistreating me.” Scorpius stepped away from the bars.

D’Argo snorted. “Not yet, anyway.” He pushed past Sikozu and entered the key codes. The grate opened and Scorpius stepped past him to Sikozu’s side. “We’re ready. Sikozu, try to keep the old woman from doing any damage. If we make it back, all we’ll need is for you to be there waiting for us.”

His expression was no longer suspicious; he was looking at her like she was someone he knew long ago, someone he was trying to recognize.

She fought the urge to look away. “She’ll be there. I promise.”

 

***

 

 

 


	6. Far From Any Road

 

Water. She opened her mouth, gulping down the contents of the bottle Teal'c had handed her. The liquid offered her a bit of clarity: How much longer would she be able to last out here?

He set a box alongside Daniel, who rummaged through it with his free hand. “This is good. Guns, water...” He held out a bright red wrapper. “And food…sort of…”

She slid a glance at him as handed the package to her. She unwrapped it, examined it—bright red, rubbery looking, hardly edible in appearance. When she bit into it, the flavor of something vaguely familiar and Earth-like filled her mouth.

“Mmm…Strawberry?”

“In flavor, at least,” Daniel said.

Teal’c nodded, smiled. “An earth delicacy.” Ammunition and rifles draped his shoulders, and two pistols sat atop the box of supplies he'd managed to recover.

She knew how a Scarran mind frell worked. How close to one she'd been. A Crichton lookalike to weaken her defenses, someone else who looked like her in league with Daniel and Teal'c...

_Mind and body invaded, heat searing through her in an effort to make her talk--_

Daniel pulled her close. “You OK?”

“I...yes... Yes, I'm fine.” A black ghost lurked on the edge of her consciousness, something she felt she should recognize-—

_Sebacean heat delirium?_

Despite the heat, despite the pain that was a low, continuous hum through her body, it wasn't that either. She swallowed what was left of the food they'd given her, took a drink from a second bottle of water.

_Hold it together._

“Four dead.” Teal’c crouched down and withdrew a bottle of water for himself then handed one to Daniel.

“That was all of them,” she said.

“Let's see what else we have in here.” Daniel removed a leather binder from the box. It was tied shut. He opened it, examined what was inside then tied it back together. “Yeah. No. Not sure what all is in there.” He stuffed the binder into the box, glanced at her. “We'll need to get it back to SGC. There could be value as far as putting together how you came to be here...”

“Let me see it.” She held out her hand. “Daniel.”

He didn’t give it to her. “It’s photographs. Of you. Of John. Your pod, your Pilot. Notes. A notebook—It looks like they’d cataloged it before we got here.”

_Pilot…_

“The notebook. Let me see the notebook.”

_Sun.Gun._

_I always name it Aeryn..._

It held weight of the stars in its pages. Each sheet of paper was covered end to end in characters she’d seen countless times. She may not have understood the calculations or notations but she knew what rested in her hands.

“Wormholes.” She closed it, handed it back to him. “This is John's. His calculations. I have to get back to him.”

He opened the notebook again, flipped through the pages until he landed on one. “I...I think I recognize some of these symbols.”

“What? That's not possible.”

“Ancient.” He turned each page faster than the one before it. “I think I know this. It looks like Ancient. At least some of it.” His finger rested on one symbol.

She closed her eyes, rested her forehead on her closed fists. Not possible. _We’ve never been here before_ …Questions she wanted to ask but the black ghost distracted her. Outside her grasp, something that carried a secret she couldn’t discern.

_Wormholes, ink deep in the pages._

_It's  half  intuition - it's  half  feeling!  I know it like I  invented  it!_

_Black ink on his hands, crawling up his arm, his leg, swallowing him whole..._

Jackson was talking, crowding out the ghost. Words rapid like automatic fire. “Ancients. Aeryn, it could tie our worlds together. Maybe get us back…These symbols...some of them are ones we've seen before...like a map...but not sure to where...”

_The wormhole a path to him, as much as it was his path to Earth. All of it an irresistible pull, intertwined and inexorable._

“Aeryn!” He shook her like she was a sleepwalker. “Aeryn, are you okay?”

A hum in her head, buzzing alongside the throbbing in her leg that had recommenced, her mind edging toward blackness.

 

***

 

_She was caught in a web of blue. Her body was usesless, her head full of thoughts she didn’t understand: Equations, metrics, diagrams swirling together in a meaningless tangle..._

_Searching for him after the wormhole had swallowed him, her guts roiling in fear and doubt. Instinct had told her to wait. Pilot had the coordinates, John had his signal on but she’dknown to wait… She sat in Lo’la’ facing the open mouth of the wormhole. A soldier again, the mission flowing through her from head to toe._

_Locate target. Acquire target._

_“Wait for it…” Like she knew._

_The wormhole beckoned, beast and savior. Opened and closed like a giant mouth wanting to grind her to nothing._

_“You’re lost.”_

_A man stood over her, eyes two black holes, face white as the snows of the ice planet. A man from another realm. Someone who’d tried to call her to duty before Zhaan had pulled her back._

_“I know you.”_

_“Time.”_

_Pulled under, wrapping itself around her body. Drowning._

_Time…_

_It’s always about time…_

_She’s been here before, on this side. Strapped in her chair soaking wet and leaden._

_There’s just not enough time—_

_Once she was an old woman with a granddaughter. A locket fused with time…_

 

 

***

 

The only person who noticed John when he got to the bridge was Vala. Carter manned a console well behind the commander, Mitchell at the man’s side. Neither of them looking his way.

_Shields attack contact_ — words flung from the various leaders on the floor.

His head, throbbing as the wormhole undulated in front of him and belched out multiple black specks from its center—

_Down the wormhole, out the wormhole, calculations scrawled in his blood, now written in Pilot’s—Aeryn’s, his…this ship…_

"They’re not acknowledging our hails,” Carter said. “Colonel Pendergast, their trajectory is toward Earth.”

“Weapons, send a warning shot before we initiate full engagement.”

Vala grabbed his arm before he could get more than a few steps past the doorway. “John! We think we found her but then this happened.” She waved her hand toward the portal.

John shook free from Vala. The swirling blue entity took up the screen, ate up his mind. He didn’t need sensors or scans or anything else. He was sure. Those were Strykers.

“You can’t let them get to Earth. Samantha, you need to take them out. Full engagement, whatever.  They’re not here to negotiate.”

Mitchell blocked his path to the portal. “What do you think we’re doing, Crichton? Dr. Frasier said you had something important to say. It had better be about those ships.” 

John ignored him, turned to Carter. “Vala said you found her.  Where is she?”

“Why didn’t you tell us about those things?” Mitchell said. “Who are they?”

“Scarrans. They were after me—”   _Aeryn, me, us…_ _Earth._

Mitchell yanked his arm. John stared into the other man’s face but it was no mirror.  Mitchell scowled, looked like he was fighting an urge to punch him.  “Scarrans? That means what?”

“Scarrans—Sleestaks with attitude.”  _Harvey’s beach…what had he known—?_  
  
“Colonel Carter!” Thor’s voice was insistent over the communications. “Colonel, I believe I  have Dr. Jackson.”  
  
“Patch him in,” Mitchell said.  
  
“Colonel Mitchell, I’m attempting to find a stable lock on his transmitter. Tealc’s as well. The wormhole and the ships are interfering with our readings.”  
  
“Aeryn.  Get her back on board.  Nothing’s gonna happen until she’s back on board.”  John pushed away from Vala, approached Mitchell. “As soon as we can, I need to get to Earth. I need to see my mother.”    
  
“We don’t have time for your trip down memory lane, Crichton. Unless you can tell me what these things are, the only place you’re going is the brig.”  Mitchell pulled him to the console where Carter sat. Vala followed them, hovered over Carter.  Mitchell reached across Carter, jabbed the comms.  
  
“Jackson? Jackson, do you hear me?”   
  
The first voice was calm. “We are here, Colonel Mitchell. Target acquired.”  
  
Another voice broke in, rushed and panicked sounding.  “She---She’s sick. If you’re going to bring us aboard, better do it now.”  
  
He didn’t want to contemplate the possibilities behind that word. “What are you waiting for?” John said.    
  
“We need to lower our shields to get them back on board but we can’t do that if we’re under attack,” Mitchell said.    
  
“Colonel Pendergast.” The man sitting in front of the colonel, manning his own console, turned to the commander.  “Colonel, our sensors are picking up energy surges. Weapons, sir.”  
  
“Fire!” Pendergast said.   
  
Strykers, three in all, zig-zagged toward the ship   Salvos split up their pattern, hit one, but the other two continued on.  Typical Scarran arrogance; this ship was as big as a command carrier.   
  
“Dammit.” Mitchell pushed away from the console. “Colonel, let’s see if I can draw these babies away from us.  Thor, get a a stable lock and  get them onboard. As soon as you’ve got them, make sure I can get into the landing bay.”  
  
“Cam, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Carter said.   
  
He glanced at John. “We’ve already been caught off guard once. We don’t need another screw up.”  
  
Carter nodded. Mitchell bolted out of the room as Pendergast gave instructions that didn’t matter to John.   
  
_Scarrans. Scarrans on Earth. In another reality, they’d taken over, hybridized the human race: His father, himself…everyone. Was this that reality? Was this where he’d brought them?  In another world, his friends were dying, under attack from Peacekeepers. In another world, he was dead—_  
  
“Colonel Carter!” Thor’s voice was insistent. “I have their coordinates and a stable connection.”  
  
“Brace for incoming!” Marks said.  
  
John lost his footing, fell against Vala.   
  
“I’m going to end up with more bruises, and it’s all your fault,” she said, but her eyes were on the portal. John followed her gaze as a triangular shaped ship, different than anything he’d seen before, swooped out from under the screen.   
  
Two shots, dead on and the Scarran ships were blown out of the sky.   
  
White light bathed the deck in front of them.  The light dissipated to reveal a tall, broad, black man, weapons slung over him like he was a Mexican bandit. He held Aeryn in his arms with no apparent effort. The other man was shorter, wore glasses, and had something tucked under his arm.   
  
“Major Marks, shields up.”  
  
“Already on it, Colonel.”  
  
 Mitchell’s voice came in over the comms, “I’m coming in. Carter, did you get ‘em?”  
  
“We’re good, Cam.”  
  
John pushed past the consoles and chairs, past Vala and Carter until he was at Aeryn’s side. He reached out and touched her brow, felt the heat that burned there. The man held her like he wasn’t about to let go without an order.   
  
He swallowed back the fear rising in his gut. Aeryn, pale, dirty, blood streaked. Her leg in a makeshift splint; he wanted to take her from the other man, cradle her himself but he didn’t dare move her.  
  
The gurney clattered onto the deck. Janet Frasier moved past the knot of people, stethoscope in her ears before she was even beside them. She slid the stethoscope under what was left of Aeryn’s clothing, moved it, left then right, looked at John, confused.   
  
“She’s not human,” he said. “She’s not dead.”  
  
Frasier nodded to the medics. They deftly took her from the man, mindful of her leg and placed her on the gurney.  
  
“Go, John," Carter said. “Vala, go with them and do something about your head.”  
  
“Yeah, uh, I’m coming too,” Daniel said.  
  
Frasier eyed them all then turned to Carter.  “I’ll let you know as soon as the examination is finished.” Frasier nodded curtly to her crew and they rushed out.

 

***

 

Pain had become a low hum in the background—a comfort. It meant she was alive.

  
John sat beside her with his hand over hers, his head resting against the bed rail. Her fingers raked through his hair, felt his warmth. John, alive.  Pilot…too many loose ends, but she was flat on her back, her injured leg heavy and surrounded in a hard, shell like material.    
  
Whatever they’d given her had sapped her energy and clouded her head. Not heat delirium. Just her mind floating above her body, taking it all in. A confined space, quiet beeps from the monitors that surrounded her bed.  
  
_The wormhole, opening and closing…John floating in the space in front of her, his planet in front of him, Lo’la at his back. Caught in the middle..._ _Opening and closing, a rhythm like his heartbeat--_

  
“John!”    
  
He sat up. For a moment, her confused mind thought she was looking at Mitchell then he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, breath warm on her skin. He smoothed down her hair, laid the back of his hand against her forehead.  “You’re gonna be okay.”  
  
_A command carrier, a med tech who’d left her alone long enough to do what she needed to do…drugs, human medicine…had any of it hurt her child?_  
  
_Pulled under, wrapping itself around her body. Drowning._  
  
_Time…_

“Aeryn?” John stood up, hovered over her. 

She couldn’t breathe; panic flooded her senses, built up behind her head, blocked the exits. She reached out, clutched his arms, and pulled herself up as the world spun around her. “The wormhole…”

He shook his head. “Don’t know.”

“It’s not there, is it.”

“What…How do you know?”

She shook her head. _How did she know_? “I saw something. A man. A man without eyes.” The words sounded crazy to her.

  
He positioned himself on the bed, gathered her in his arms. The mist that surrounded her senses was clearing.  The scent of him filled her nostrils. He was here. He was alive.

_She’d dreamed it, she was sure, half delirious—_

“You saw him,” John said. “You saw Einstein. It’s not enough that the bastard had to screw with me.”

  
“Hallucination—”  
  
He pulled away, shook his head. “No. He’s real. An Ancient—”  
  
“What—”  
  
He held up his hand to silence her. “Einstein. An ancient, the one who got me through that wormhole to Earth the first time.”    
  
“We’ve never been here before.” Daniel had told her the truth of it. “We don’t belong here.”  
  
“Yeah. I think I know how to fix it but we need to get off this ship and convince these people to let me see my parents.”  
  
She blinked like that would help her to understand. “Parents…?”  
  
“My mother is alive here. And I’m dead. We brought Scarrans, and lions and tigers and bears through that big ol’ wormhole and if we don’t get the hell out of here, we are all screwed.” 

“It’s closed…”

He nodded. “For now. I think that might be how they were able to get you on board. But it won’t last.”

“I need to get out of this bed.” She pulled away from him, anchored her fists into the bed as she struggled to sit up. “Daniel…Daniel has your notebook. The truck I was in…They had things--Pictures. Your notebook. I think we need to get back to the pod. To Pilot. While we still can.”  
  
He nodded. “If we can get it fired up, I can at least figure out where the readings went hinky…” He paused. “Do you trust these people, Aeryn?”  
  
She thought of Daniel Jackson, of the panicked look on his face, the way he’d tried to comfort her. Like he knew her.   
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Me too. We all need off this boat.”  
  
She gazed around the room—medical supplies, no weapons, an easily accessible doorway.  “Get me out of here.”  
  
“And go where?”  
  
“Daniel.  Get Daniel.”  
  
He sighed, looked like he was afraid to say the next thing.  “Aeryn? You’ve been through a lot.  The baby…aren’t you sure you shouldn’t just wait it out here?”     
  
The baby… _No time, no time, no time_.  Not one more distraction until they were done here.   
  
“No.  I won’t allow us to be separated again.”  
  
He nodded.  Wandered to the other side of the room and returned with a chair on wheels.  “Here’s your transportation. Not a Prowler but it’ll get us from A to B with minimal effort.  We’re gonna have to put it  all  on the line.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”  
  
She nodded. “He needs to know.”

 

***

 

The medical bay was empty except for the   lone, slim figure dressed in green BDUs.  Vala reclined on the bed, eyes closed and an ice pack on her forehead. 

“Knock, knock,” Daniel said.  
  
She opened her eyes and sat up, letting the icepack fall to the floor.  The lump on her forehead was a purplish and slightly raised.  She rearranged her hair over it.   
  
“What are you doing here? Didn’t come to check up on me, I suppose.”  She leaned back on the propped pillows and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
“Didn’t think there was anything to check on.”  He approached her and stood by the foot of the bed.  “What happened there?”  He motioned toward her head.  
  
“It’s a long story.”  
  
He moved to her bedside. Reached out, winced. There was that, after all; in the commotion, he’d forgotten about his shoulder.     
  
“Well,” she said. “What happened to you?  Other than the obvious, of course.”  
  
“The obvious?”  
  
“Saving a life?”  She swung around to stand but he held out his good arm to stop her.   
  
“Maybe you should just sit for a while. Rest while you can.”  
  
“What did you do to your arm?”  
  
He rubbed at his shoulder.  She grabbed her ice pack off the floor, handed it to him.  He placed it on the bedside table.    
  
“Now, you.  Sit.” She pressed her fingertips lightly against his chest. He complied.  She busied herself with finding aspirin, filled two cups with water then handed one to him.   
  
“To not dying so far.” She raised her cup in a toast. “We made it, Daniel. So far.”  She handed the aspirin to him. He popped them in his mouth then gulped them down with water.  
  
“How tenuous is this?” she asked.  
  
“We’ll figure it out.”  
  
“I mean her,” Vala nodded toward the door.  “Aeryn Sun. The one who looks like me. Certainly you remember her.”    
  
“Janet has it under control,” he said.  
  
“You say that like it’s normal.  ‘Janet has it under control’.  It should be Dr. Lam here, we should be talking to General Landry. This should be the Odyssey, and I should not be treated like a prisoner on leave.  But mostly? Mostly there shouldn’t be a woman with my face.”  She sat down on the bed again. “My head is killing me.”  
  
He touched the lump on her head with his fingertips. “Ouch. I’d hate to see the other guy.”  
  
She smirked, her eyes alight with mischief.  “Is it bringing back memories, Daniel?”  
  
His body ached, he was dirty, smelled worse. “That’s one memory I’d just as soon forget.”  
  
“Hmm.” She looked like she didn’t believe him.  “For the record, I helped Crichton out of a prison cell using my forehead and a knee to his groin.” She snapped her fingers. “Worked like a charm.”   
  
“Well, that’s resourceful. I hurt myself falling out of a tree.”  
  
“You win.” She raised her glass again in tribute to him then gulped down the rest of her water. “But I don’t suppose that’s the end of the story.”  
  
He shook his head.  “Sam’s coordinates took us right to her. To Aeryn. She…I thought she might die.”  
  
“I’m relieved you didn’t.”  Her voice was soft.  “I mean that, Daniel. You know I mean that, don’t you?”  
  
He turned to face her, saw eyes wide and liquid, serious.  The expression touched something inside him, something he felt he should know or remember, but it slipped away like smoke in his grasp.    
  
“You know…in case we die here, in this reality, I just wanted you to know that I mean it.” She stood up, was at the door when Frasier opened it.  
  
“Vala? You’re not supposed to be up,” she said.  “Daniel, Crichton wants to talk to you.”   
  


 

***

 

“She’s resting and relatively cooperative,” Janet was saying as she swung open the door to Aeryn’s room.  “What are you doing?”   
  
“We appreciate the medical care, Doctor, but we need to get the hell out of here.” John secured Aeryn in the chair.  Her hands gripped the arm rests.  
  
“She needs rest,” Frasier said.  
  
“Yeah, there’ll be time for that when we get out of here.”  John grasped the chair handles, acknowledged Daniel and Vala. “Thanks for bringing them in.”  
  
“Janet, we’ve got it,” Daniel said.  
  
Frasier looked dubious but relented. “She can’t go far.”  
  
“Sure,” John agreed.  “There’s no real way off this thing anyway, right?”  
  
Frasier gave them one more look, shook her head then left the room, shutting the door behind her.  
  
They lingered just past the threshold. Vala’s fingertips grazed his back, then she pulled away and approached Aeryn.  The other woman gazed up at her, no emotion on her face.  
  
“Daniel?” Vala turned to him.   
  
“Weird, huh?” John said. “Aeryn, this is Vala Mal Doran.  She kicked my ass to get us out of the brig.” He shook Daniel’s hand  “Daniel?  Aeryn says we can trust you. I guess I have you to thank for bringing her back.”  
  
Daniel shook his hand but looked past him. “You’re looking better,” he said to Aeryn.  Not true—she looked worse, like the fight had been sucked out of her.  
  
“Your doctor gave me…something.” She kept her gaze on Vala.  “You and Mitchell…”    
  
“You  almost  look just like me.” She paused. “Daniel. You saved her life.”  
  
“The beam saved her life. Janet saved her life.”  
  
“I don’t think we need to parse it out.” Crichton’s exhaustion was evident in the slump of his shoulders as he braced himself against the wheelchair.  “She’s pregnant.”  
  
“What? Pregnant?” Vala said.    
  
“I don’t think Frasier was able to see anything definitive.” John said. “It’s all relative anyway—none of it is anything she’s seen before.”  
  
“Pregnant,” Daniel said. Pregnant, thrown from a truck, on God only knew what medications…  
  
“Look, we prefer Frasier not know.  If something goes wrong, if we don’t get out of here…” Crichton slid his hand over Aeryn’s shoulder; she reached for it and squeezed hers over his.   
  
She cleared her throat. “If we’re captured, separated…if we die here…”    
  
“No one is dying anywhere,” Vala said.    
  
Aeryn looked at Daniel.  “Nothing happens to the child.  Do you understand me?”  
  
“I understand,” he said.  
  
Aeryn steadied herself in the chair.  “John’s notebook.  Where is it? You said you recognized some of the symbols--”  
  
John swung around in front of Aeryn and stood between her and Daniel. “What did you recognize?  What do you know?”  
  
“Calm down,” Vala said.  “Haven’t you gotten into enough trouble already?”  
  
John’s fists clenched, unclenched.  He looked haggard, desperate and the thought occurred to Daniel again: what would John Crichton be crazy enough to do? And now he could factor a child into the mix.   
  
“Sam has it.  Yes, I recognized some of the symbols but I have no idea how they’re all put together or if they even mean anything.”  
  
“John.”  Aeryn wheeled in front of him.  “She’s right.  We’re in enough trouble here. No back up…We all need to get back to Earth.”    
  
“I really think you need to just stay right here,” Vala said.   
  
Daniel shook his head. “That’s not happening.  One thing she shares with you—you can’t talk her out of anything.” 

 


	7. Almost Home

No guns, no guards. Just Vala and Jackson, she in front, Jackson bringing up the rear as John pushed Aeryn’s wheelchair through the corridors. Carter, Mitchell—John guessed were smart enough to know that as long as Aeryn was aboard and injured, he wasn’t going to stir up any shit.

They stopped at a sealed door. Jackson keyed some numbers into the keypad, waited, turned to Vala.  Nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Vala put her hand on his back and leaned over his shoulder. “Do you want me to give it a go?”

“You? No. It’s just...the code is different than I remembered.” He glanced at John then his gaze wandered to Aeryn. Considered her, turned back to Vala.

“Why don’t you just frelling knock?” Aeryn looked drained, done—and out of patience.

Jackson shook his head, tried his code again. The door slid open. Teal’c stood before them, gave a slight nod and stepped aside as they followed Daniel and Vala into the room.

Carter stood behind a console, a computer screen behind her. The little alien stood at his own console. Neither looked up as they filed past the two. Symbols ran along the bottom of the screen, scrolling, scrolling but too fast for John to identify anything.

“I don’t understand.” Sam sounded like she wasn’t talking to anyone but herself.

He positioned Aeryn’s wheelchair at the table then flopped down into the chair beside her while Daniel and Vala took seats around the table where Mitchell and Teal’c had already sat.

On the conference table in front of Mitchell and Teal’c was his notebook. Sepia toned pages curled at the edges, the cover stained with grease from his hands. Black ink spilled from page to page.

He wished he could burn it, watch the pages turn inward, all of it swirling together until it was nothing but ash, all forgotten—He knew he couldn’t.

“John?” Aeryn motioned toward the portal where there was nothing but black space speckled with stars.

Gone.

“It’ll be back.” Inevitable, a monkey on his back he couldn’t quite shake. A drug he needed.

“We need it to be back.”

He turned to her. She stared out the portal then steered herself toward it like something was pulling her there. He pushed away from the table and followed her.

“Crichton, what are you doing?” Mitchell said.

“Wormhole.” Aeryn didn’t turn around.

“It’s gone,” Sam said. She finally glanced up. “The wormhole…Thor’s been monitoring the readings, trying to find the first anomaly that might get us all back to where we started except…Thor?”

“Unfortunately, that is nearly impossible.”

“Why?”

“It’s as though nothing was ever there.”

“You’re both wrong,” John rested his hand on the wheelchair handle, turned his attention to the group behind him.

“And how do you know that?” Mitchell reached across the table for the notebook. Picked it up and held it out. “Unless that’s all in here.”

“Maybe. I’ve been through this wormhole before. I know how it works.”

Mitchell laughed. “Right. And that’s why we’re all sitting here where we don’t belong.”

“Let him finish, Cam,” Carter said.

“Earth. Our ship. My mother.” He counted them off a finger at a time. “I need to get back there and deal with all of it. Just like I’ve been saying this whole damned time—”

“You?” Mitchell pushed away from the table and stood up. “You’re not going anywhere without the rest of us. We either all fix it, or none of us does.”

“You, me, us. Whatever. I don’t give a crap.”

Carter shook her head. “John, you can’t turn back the clock. Unless you’re precise, we’d create a paradox—“

“It’s not going backwards. It’s going…ah, hell. It’s going somewhere else. If the wormhole is closed, if that gives us a chance to get back to Earth, we need to go now before it comes back.”

“You said it before,” Carter said. “The longer we stay, the more difficult it’ll be set this right. Wouldn’t it be better to try to take care of things from here?”

“No, no, no.” He tapped his finger to his head. “It’s all up here. It’s me. I needed to maintain focus. Engrossment. I didn’t. And now we’re here.”

“That is utter lunacy,” Vala said.

Mitchell pointed at Vala. “What she said. You want us to believe that you’re some kind of wormhole master—”

“He wants you to shut the frell up.” Aeryn didn’t turn around. “So shut up.”

Carter approached the table. Reached out, picked up the notebook and thumbed through the pages without really looking at them. Set it down again. “The multi-verse theory of quantum physics posits the existence of parallel universes, an infinite number of ever growing alternate realities that exist concurrently with our own. You understand that.”

“Every point of entry - a wormhole branches into multiple paths,” he recited.

_Bizarro Moya. In league with Crais against his friends…killing one to save another…_

“Millions of me, millions of you, leading millions of pathetic lives,” John said. “The only thing that concerns me right now is this particular one.” He pointed to his notebook. “It’s all theory. Equations I half understand… We’re here. Multiple paths. Unrealized realities that’ll close in on us if we don’t do something.”

“And how exactly did we get consumed in all this?” Mitchell said. “Sam?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“And it doesn’t matter,” John said. “This is just one of millions of possibilities. My goal was to close the wormhole—”

Mitchell shook his head. “You can see, right? The wormhole is closed. When it’s open, it’s unstable. How are you supposed to fix things if ‘fixing things’ involves a wormhole that’s not there? How do we know the Sleestaks won’t come back when that door opens again? If it does.”

“You don’t,” Aeryn said. “Which is why you need to just shut the frell up and let him finish this.”

“So, we get back to your pod and your pilot and all that other stuff,” Mitchell said. “Then what?”

_Time..._

_My folks loved it here...Mom...this was her favorite place.  We can live here. Stay here forever_

John sighed. “Don’t you get it? Destination is key. I need to see my folks—I told you. My mother…”

 _Mom’s ring on Aeryn’s finger_...

Mitchell snorted. “This isn’t some Wizard of Oz thing. You can’t just click your heels together—”

“Oh, shut up, Cameron,” Vala said. “Have you forgotten? We’re all in the wrong place. What happens when the Cameron Mitchell from this reality, walks through the gate? What then? We don’t seem to have an answer.”

“She’s right,” Carter said. “Right now, General O’Neill is on our side. He trusts us…he trusts _me_. For now. But, judging from my non recollection of John’s mother, there are a whole lot of ways I can stumble. What do you propose, John?”

“You need to convince him to let me see my parents. To get back to our pod to see if we have any readings left. Recreate things from my end, and from yours. Maybe that’s what it takes.”

“Maybe.” Daniel Jackson, reached across the table, slid the notebook to himself. “Sam, tell me none of this looks familiar.” He opened it and held it up.

Carter shook her head. “Thor and I fed the equations into the computer, looking for patterns. Nothing’s come up yet that looks familiar.  All we know for certain is that the wormhole is unstable.  It opens, seems like it’s closed...we haven’t found the pattern yet.”  

“No, no, not the math. The symbols. There could be a gate address in here.”

His team looked at him like he was as crazy as John. At least John wasn’t alone in that.

“To where, Jackson?” Mitchell said.

“That’s something we’ll need to find out. For what it’s worth, I think we need to do what he says.” Daniel laid the notebook down and closed it. “I mean, it can’t get any worse, right?”

“Oh, Daniel!” Vala sighed and patted his hand. “You’re so naive.”

“Colonel Carter.” Thor’s voice was calm. John already knew what he was going to say.

Carter pushed away from the table, returned to the console. The screen behind her bloomed blue, the undulating swirl unmistakable as it spat out Strykers.

“Holy shit.” Mitchell pushed away from the table and stood up in one quick move.

“Thor, see if you can find a way to get us beamed back to Earth with this thing open,” Carter said. “Cam?”

The klaxons blared before Mitchell could respond. “There’s your answer,” he said.

 

***

 

“Why did you let Vala Mal Doran go anywhere but Area 51? You should have put her in custody immediately. And you’re not dumping me in your office without an answer.” Woolsey practically stepped on Jack’s heels as he followed Jack to the control room, yapping like a little dog.

Jack did pretty much what he always did with yapping little dogs. He stopped dead, turned around and faced him down until Woolsey took a step back and clamped his mouth shut.

“My base. My rules.” Jack brushed the back of his hand over Woolsey’s lapels. “I don’t see where it says ‘General’ anywhere.”

“The President—“

“I’ve known Hank a long time. He knows he can trust me. So pipe down. We’ve got a bigger problem right now.” He turned and continued to the control room.

“What have you got for me, Chief?” He clapped Walter on the shoulder. “Any word on our missing guys?”

“Sir, we’ve located two beacons but neither belongs to Teal’c or Dr. Jackson.” Walter Harriman glanced up at him. “We’ve begun recovery.”

Jack nodded. “Carter? Prometheus?”

Harriman shook his head, looking sorry to be the bearer of bad news. “Just when I think I have a lock, I lose it.”

“The wormhole?”

“It’s closed, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that have solved our Prometheus problem? Wasn’t that what messed things up in the first place?”

“I…” Harriman faltered. “I can’t explain it, General.”

“Story of my life, Walter. At least today.”

Why had he let Mal Doran out of his sight? He trusted Sam without question but why had she wanted Mal Doran with them in the first place?

Thankfully, Richard Woolsey had been so consumed with Mal Doran that he hadn’t put up a stink about Crichton. Just as well. Crichton, his ship, his companions were all just another set of unknowns. In Woolsey’s mind, Mal Doran would be a gold mine of information.

Out of sync. Wrong. Sure, coming in hot would have shaken them up, but that wasn’t a first for them either. A Cameron Mitchell lookalike who wasn’t Mitchell, a wanted criminal traveling first class and some space invaders no one had really been able to track or identify.

His team should have been here, at SGC, not scattered. Not missing. He wasn’t going to believe it was anything more than a miscommunication until he had factual evidence of Daniel and Teal’s whereabouts.

Not really the kind of crap you wanted to help ease into retirement.

“Sir,” Walter said. “Dr Lee wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.”

“Huh? Lee?” He glanced up at the screens. Nothing. He clapped Woolsey on the shoulder. “Be right back.”

Jack left it like that, moved down the stairs and to the corridor that led to the lab.

 

***

 

He and Aeryn followed Mitchell and the rest of the team to the bridge. That they’d been invited along was a surprise to John; then again, what else were they going to do? The ship’s resources were now directed toward defense.

One. Plan. At a time.

Once again, John found himself staring out the portal of this battle cruiser, an earth based space ship.  Once again realized that he’d taken a really bad turn.  The only saving grace was the grip he had on Aeryn’s wheelchair.

The wormhole undulated, taunting them. One big, unlocked door and all the bad guys were just waiting to jump the backyard fence.

_Bird of Paradise? … Moms garden - dime a dozen…_

They were screwed.

He glanced at Aeryn. Her attention was riveted on the ship around her. She’d grown up on a command carrier but this?

“This...this isn’t...”  she began. “We didn’t see....it’s not....”  

“From my Earth?”

She nodded.

“Nope.  Dorothy, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

“They might have a fighting chance.” She reached around, patted his hand.  “If we can keep it closed...” _If, if_...he was starting to hate that word.

“Colonel Pendergast?” Mitchell said.

Pendergast nodded. “Fighters in the bay, Colonel, and shields are up.”

Mitchell nodded. “Sam, see if you can get O’Neill on the horn.”

Behind him,Sam Carter took a seat beside Teal’c. Called out for Stargate Command and General O’Neill. Vala and Daniel lingered behind her.

“Colonel, see if we can get them to talk to us,” Mitchell said.

“Marks.”

“Frequency open, sirs.”

“This is Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force. Do you understand me?” He glanced back at Aeryn.  “Do you speak their language?”

She shook her head.  “No. But they understand you. The way I do.  Don’t give them a warning. Kill them now.”

John blinked, looked at her. Her jaw was set, her arms locked on the armrests as she rose partially out of  the chair.  The expression on her face made it look like she didn’t even realize that she was no longer seated.

Mitchell narrowed his eyes at her.  “You’ve fought them.”

“They’ll torture you.  Kill you if you don’t destroy them before they get to Earth. One through is one too many,” Aeryn said. “Shoot them.”

A garbled message sounded through the comms. The bridge crew glanced at each other.

“That’s the Scarran equivalent of ‘fuck you’,”  John said. “And they don’t exactly look like they come in peace.”

Mitchell glanced at Sam. Each nodded at the other.  “Colonel Pendergast? I’ll take full responsibility. Let’s take those sons of bitches out.”

Pendergast called out orders. The ship rocked with an impact against the shielding. John held the chair steady as he fought to maintain his balance, Aeryn gripping the armrests.

“You okay?”  He shook Aeryn’s arm.

She grimaced, nodded. Outside, debris floated toward them.

“Daniel?” It was Vala. John turned, saw her on the floor, staring at her hands. Daniel crouched down and helped her to her feet.

“Vala?” Daniel cupped her elbows to keep her standing.

“I…what was that?” She patted her clothing. “I…well. That was odd.” She rubbed at the bruise on her forehead.

“Are you all right?” Daniel said. “Vala?”

Two ships remained, both damaged. Both turned tail toward the wormhole.

“Colonel Pendergast, don’t let them go,” Aeryn said. “If they’re able to get back through, report what  you have here—They won’t back down. They’ll return with reinforcements.”

Pendergast nodded. John saw ships much like Mitchell’s appear from the Prometheus’ underbelly. But instead of engagement, the Strykers turned and followed each other down the wormhole, leaving the fighters at the wormhole’s edge.

“You need to leave ships at the perimeter,” Aeryn said. “Hit them as they exit the wormhole when they return.”

“Fish in a barrel,” Mitchell said. Aeryn glanced at him, puzzled.

“No chance to escape,” he explained. “I like it. Colonel?”

Pendergast nodded.

No one had asked the question—two Mitchells, two Valas, one of whom seemed to know a lot about the invaders…the crew was military but they were human, not Peacekeepers. They looked like they wanted to ask a lot of questions.

John maneuvered Aeryn’s chair to the array. Mitchell joined them. “Vala, what was that all about?”

“Maybe it’s just my head but…” She glanced around, then leaned in like she was in a huddle. “Remember when I came to warn you about the Ori?”

Mitchell glared at her. “In Daniel?”

Vala nodded, winced, rubbed her head again.

“What the hell is she talking about?” John said.

“Communication,” Sam answered. “Vala?”

“Well…I could be wrong but…I think the general was here. I mean, I was the general.”

“General O’Neill?” Mitchell said.

“Well, only for a moment—”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Daniel said. “Vala, when we used the device, our bodies were unconscious. Harrid and Sallis weren’t in ours.”

“Daniel, don’t ask me to explain it. I just know what I know, which is that General O’Neill used the stones and was in my body.”

Mitchell grabbed her arm, pulled her toward him. “Think, Vala. Where were you?”

“Ow!” She squirmed away from him. “In the lab. Dr. Lee was there. The communications terminal…Daniel, they have the terminal.”

“You were _both_ conscious?” Sam said.

“Well, you’d have to ask the General about that but…” She nodded firmly. “Yes. I’m sure that was it How could they have gotten the terminal?”

“Colonel Carter.” Thor’s voice interrupted any further discussion. “Colonel, I believe I can facilitate a transmission to General O’Neill.”

“Do it,” Mitchell said. He turned to Vala. “Hold that thought.”

 

***

 

“Okay. I’m here. What’s so important?”

Bob Lee looked up from his computer screen, grinning like the proverbial cat. He might as well have had a feather sticking out of his mouth.

“It works! I think....” Lee clapped his hands, then looked at his screen and frowned.

“What?” All O’Neill saw was that crazy device SG1 had taken off some Lucien Alliance members not terribly long ago. In the midst of all that was going on, it seemed the least important thing on his agenda.

“This...” Lee pointed at his screen. “That.” His fingers gravitated toward the hunk of junk in the corner. “Colonel Carter was right.”

“And that’s what you called me here to tell me? Since when isn’t she right?”

“No, no...I mean...I think I know what this does.”

Lee had hooked up wires to it; Jack realized that the wires and electrodes and whatnot were connected to Lee’s computer. He walked around to the other side of the table, looked at the screen. Graphs, lines, colors... nothing that made any sense to him.

Lee rubbed his hands together, bounced a little on the balls of his feet.

Colonel Carter theorized that it might be a communicator. And that we could use it if we could figure out the frequencies and....yes. She’s right.”

“Communicator...with what?”

Lee shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure at the moment but...given the issues with contacting Prometheus , I thought we might give it a go. I wanted your permission to see what I can do with it.”

“Huh.” O’Neill stepped toward the object, picked up one of the stones and wrapped his hand around it. “Feels kind of warm—” He put it back in its place.

The word “General!” echoed in his head then he found himself on the bridge standing next to Daniel. _Daniel_? His forehead hurt; he raised his hand to it, found a goose egg just under his hairline except...it wasn’t his hair. He grabbed a handful and glanced down—black, wavy, well past his shoulders.

Sam and Teal’c at communications, Mitchell leaning in toward Pendergast, staring out the portal. John Crichton had his hands secured to a wheelchair that held....Vala Mal Doran...?

He held up his hands in front of his face. Slim wrists, long fingers, fingernails tinged with a light pink polish. Glanced down at the array in front of him, caught sight of his reflection for a split second

The Prometheus took a hit that sent him head first into the wall—

Then he was on the floor, and staring at his hands.

“General O’Neill.” Lee looked like he wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure where to start. “What happened?”

He waved Lee back and reached for the table, using it to pull himself up. Just to make sure, he ran his hands through his hair, felt it short and bristly.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” He pointed at the stones. “Those things...They’re...communicators?”

“Yes. Well, that’s what it seems like.”

“They’re up there.” He pointed upwards. “Daniel. Teal’c. I don’t know how but…they’re okay. Um, there was someone else in a wheelchair and...” He shook his head. “Whoa. Prometheus took a hit from something.”

“Sir? Do you want me to get a medical team in here.”

“No. No time. I was in her body. Vala Mal Doran’s.

“Wait. You ended up sharing Vala Mal Doran’s consciousness? Maybe she was the last point of contact using the stones.”

He shook his head, had a vague notion of Goa’uld invading a consciousness, squelching it until it was nothing but a dim light flickering out in a corner. “Why does that not surprise me.” He clapped Lee on the shoulder. “I may need to get back up there but, in the meantime, see if you can keep that thing running or…whatever it does. The wormhole is open.”

***

 

When he entered the control room, he found personnel scattered throughout, each manning a console.  The screens were lit up, all showing various views of the anomaly.

“Chief, report.”

“Sir, I’ve got Colonel Carter but she’s fading in and out.”

“General, what the hell was that? They were there and…well, now they’re not.”

“Easy now, Richard. Prometheus has it under control.”

SG13 had already assembled in the gate room, as well as a squadron of armed personnel should anything choose to make an entrance.  The same precautions as always but his gut told him they were barking up the wrong tree.  The problem was over their heads, literally, and possibly figuratively.  

Woolsey turned to him. “General O’Neill, I demand we contact the President—“

Jack  reached for the phone on the wall. “Great idea. Now, why have a seat while I do that.” He punched in the code, then the man on the other end picked up.

“Jack. I’ve had reports from Central Command. We found our fighters and pilots. Both dead. What about your men?”

“Mr. President, my team is on Prometheus. We’re working on getting them back here.”

“I want Colonel Mitchell assisting Pendergast on Prometheus. Jack, something shot our men down. We need to find it.”

“We will, Mr. President.”

“You let me know as soon as you have some word. Nothing seems to have changed on the ground. Yet.”

“Yes, sir.

“And keep Woolsey there.  I know he’s a pain in the backside but I need to be able to tell the Russians that their monitor is alive and well.” Landry hung up. 

Woolsey still had his hand out, waiting for the phone like he thought he was going to have a conversation.  Jack shrugged and hung up.  “He wants you to stay here.”  He turned to one of the guards who was stationed at the stairwell.  “Escort Mr. Woolsey to our guest quarters. Richard, you’ll be nice and safe there.”

“General O’Neill, that is not my job here.”

“It is today.” He nodded at the guard who took Woolsey by the arm and led him downstairs.

Jack Crichton.  John Crichton. Wormholes. Ships through an open wormhole. The list was growing and none of it made any sense. He needed answers: The only person who could provide those was Samantha Carter.

He hoped.

“Sir, I’ve got Colonel Carter.”

Jack glanced up at the screen. It spat static at him but there she was. “Carter!”

“Sir!”  

“Are we good to beam you down?”

“Almost. We’re all here, sir. We’ll need medical.  One of the targets was injured.”

“What were those things you were shooting at?”

Carter blinked, unsure. “Sir?”

“Scarrans.” John Crichton stepped into view alongside Carter. “General, do you understand now? Do you see what I mean?”

He didn’t, actually, but he didn’t have time to argue. “Crichton.  Shut up.  Carter, where’s Mal Doran?”

“She’s here.  Secured.”

“You, Mal Doran and Jackson are coming down. The President wants Mitchell there to help oversee operations. Teal’c can stay with him.”

“Sir, I need Mitchell and Teal’c with me.”

“This one’s not open for discussion. Chief?”

“Ready from our end, sir.”

“Let’s get this done. ”

 

***

 

The troops had cleared back, leaving an open area for the beams. The medical team stood by with a gurney. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Incoming, sir.”

Jack glanced up at Harriman, nodded, stepped back once more as five figures materialized in front of them. He blinked once as the two women, almost similar in physical appearance, fleshed out in front of him. One leaned against John Crichton, pale, grim, leg in a cast and wearing a pale blue hospital gown. Vala Mal Doran looked defiant and stood alongside Daniel in a manner that seemed more intimate than he would have expected.

Carter stepped forward. “Sir, we need Cam and Teal’c here.”

“What we need, Carter, are these three locked up. Then we’ll talk.”

“I’ve told you what has to happen.” John Crichton attempted a step forward but the woman alongside him said something in a language Jack didn’t understand.

“Sergeant, escort her to medical and post a guard.” He motioned toward Crichton and Mal Doran. “Put the other two in interrogation rooms.”

“Sir,” Carter said. “They’re all part of the solution.”

“No. They’re the problem. Get them out of here.”

“It’s going to be OK.” Daniel nodded to Mal Doran and her look alike.

“John, don’t argue,” Carter added.

Crichton shook his head. “Time, General. And you’re running out of it.”

“So you’ve said. Carter, Daniel, conference room.” He glanced up at he control room. “Chief, get Mitchell and Teal’c on communications while we still can.”

He didn’t give either party a second look as they headed up the stairs.

 

 

***

 

Teal’c and Mitchell were already on-screen when they got to the conference room. He took his place at the head of the table with Daniel and Carter flanking him. Mitchell was standing, bouncing on the balls of his feet from what Jack could see, while Teal’c stood alongside him, still and silent. They weren’t on the bridge.

“Now that we’re all here. Do you want to tell me what the hell’s going on? Carter?”

“Where do you want to start, sir.”

“Good question. Let’s start here. The woman with Crichton…is she another Vala Mal Doran?”

“No,” Daniel said almost too quickly. “Here’s where we are, Jack. Those two, John Crichton and Aeryn Sun, came through that wormhole but…they didn’t end up where they expected.”

“And where did they expect to end up?”

Carter sighed. “A universe parallel to ours. Sir, it would be better if Crichton explained it--”

Jack help up his palm to stop her. “So…they’re supposed to be somewhere else, ended up here, and now we’re stuck with some invading force that followed them through.”

“That’s it in a nutshell, General,” Mitchell said.

O’Neill shook his head. “Can’t we just send them back through?

The team was silent. The two in front of him, Carter and Daniel glanced at each other. Mitchell sucked in his lower lip, looked like he was going to say something but said nothing. Only Teal’c was nonplussed.

“Is that a problem for all of you? Colonels?”

“Sir, I just don’t think it’s that easy,” Mitchell said.

“From what he says, there’s a lot more to it than just going back in. He has to close it,” Carter said.

“It was closed. Now it’s open. Doesn’t sound to me like he has any control over that. Listen, I was up there, for a just a moment and I know that we can’t keep this up for ever.”

“Up there?” Daniel said. “On the Prometheus?”

“Yeah. I used those stones you guys took off the Lucien Alliance. For what it’s worth, Carter, Lee seems to think your theory was correct.”

This time it was Daniel’s turn to stop him. “The ancient communication device—”

“What? Daniel, you guys brought it through when you caught those Lucien Alliance guys.” He snapped his fingers. “Netan?”

“Right,” Carter said. “So, I was right then. We managed to artificially emulate Alteran technology to mimic the frequencies sent and received by the stones.”

O’Neill snorted. “Really, Carter? You expect me to know. How about this wormhole? Your interest in a Goa’uld host? Why don’t we all cut the bullshit and you tell me what’s really happening here?”

Carter sighed and again glanced at Mitchell, then back to Daniel. Jack detected a slight shake of the head from each man. He didn’t like it one bit.

“The multi-verse theory of quantum physics posits the existence of parallel universes—”

“Nope. Quantum physics, parallel universes. You know that stuff doesn’t impress me, Carter. You _do_ know that, don’t you?”

She smiled, nodded. “I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Humor me. All of you have been squirrelly since you came through the gate. There’s only so long I can hold off the IOA, and the President, especially with that wormhole swinging open and closed like we’re an intergalactic saloon. We’re wasting time here. I need the quickest way through this thing so we can say good bye to Mr. John Crichton. You already know he’s dead here, right.”

“You made it clear.”

“Do you really think I’m going to let him go out there? He doesn’t even exist here.”

Daniel pushed the chair away from the table and stood up. “What if we use the communication device?”

“And do what?”

“Send Crichton to see his family without sending him anywhere. You saw his companion. She’s not in any real shape to travel. You don’t trust Crichton. Do you trust me? Sam?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“You saw how they work, Jack. You said you were in Vala on Prometheus. She described being in the lab here. So what if Vala Mal Doran and I use the stones to communicate with Crichton’s parents; or rather, Crichton and Aeryn Sun use them, in our bodies. Just like you and Vala did.”

“Daniel, that’s truly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t trust Mal Doran and I’m not so sure your brain isn’t part scrambled egg.”

“Sir, it makes sense,” Carter said. “Crichton’s not going to go anywhere if his body is _here_. I’d go with them of course. Crichton’s body, his companion…they stay here and—”

“Wait. What? You want to body swap these four? Why not just you in one of their bodies?”

“Sir, the Crichtons know me. Neither Vala nor Daniel are military. Colonel Crichton would feel more comfortable with me.”

“Right. And how do you even know it’ll work for more than a few seconds?”

“Jack, what caused you to get everything back to normal? When you were in Vala?” Daniel said.

“I…she…I hit my head when the Prometheus was hit.”

“So, it’s fair to say that the connection would have remained had you not had that happen?”

“I suppose so.” It was too easy, they were too comfortable with the idea, like they’d seen it before. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on…

“General, it’s a quick way to get what we want,” Mitchell said. “Crichton has a connection to this wormhole. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I think it’s a load of crap, but he says he can sense them. If he thinks this is one way to right things, maybe it’s the safest, quickest way.”

“If it goes south, you’ve already proved we can break the connection,” Carter said.

“Teal’c? I haven’t heard from you yet.”

“O’Neill, I believe that Colonels Carter and Mitchell are correct. We’ve seen first hand that these creatures are willing to attack. We spent time with Aeryn Sun. She has no means to harm us. She may provide additional intel should the attacks increase. If we can permanently close the wormhole, we can stop the attacks from going any further.”

Did he trust Carter? Did he trust any of them? Something didn’t smell right and he was sure there was more but he didn’t have the luxury of waiting. It wouldn’t be the first time, and probably not the last.

“Fine.” He stood up. “Let’s get the three of them to the lab.”

 

 

***

 

Daniel had taken Vala duty, without much complaint from Jack. Still, there was something in his demeanor that made Daniel feel sure that their borrowed time had less to do with the wormhole and more with Jack’s patience.

Sam had no idea how perfect the plan was: _if we’re holding their bodies hostage_ …SG1 would be holding their child hostage. John Crichton wouldn’t jeopardize that in any way.

There were two armed guards outside Vala’s interrogation room. One unlocked the door before being asked.

She sat handcuffed to the table, resting her head on her forearms. When she heard the door close, she sat up; in her eyes, he saw something that grasped at a memory he was sure he didn’t have…

_Other times, other realities, memories forgotten…fifty years turned back. Somewhere he was sure he’d held her in his arms, her pain cascading over him—_

He shook his head. This wasn’t back or forward, not time dilation. They were somewhere else. Vala was a criminal here, remorseless and on the run. He liked to think it was his intervention that had taken her on a different path. Given her a place to call home, a purpose that was noble. That had brought out her better angels…had that been for him or for herself?

Why did it even matter to him?

“Daniel.” She yanked her wrists up from the table but there wasn’t much give in the cuffs. “Did they send you to finish locking me up?”

“Of course not.” He eyed the cuffs, sighed. Wrong. It was all wrong. “Let me get the key.” He opened the door, signaled the guard and had him undo the cuffs.

“Anything else, Dr. Jackson?” The guard looked at Vala skeptically.

“No, no. Thanks. We’ll be out in a minute.”

She rubbed her wrists then pushed away from the table and stood up. “Well, General O’Neill has certainly made my status known on this base. So, what now? An actual interrogation?”

He went around to her, took her by the elbow, and steered her toward the door. “I think you’ll like this one a lot better. You and I are going on a road trip…or, our bodies are anyway.”

She stopped before he could open the door and pulled him toward her. “What?”

“The communication stones. We’re going to use them the way you and Jack did.”

“Oh, very funny. How much longer do you think General O’Neill is going to give me? You came to free me so I can make my escape, right? You all can get everything straightened out. Call me when you’re finished.” She reached for the doorknob.

“Vala.” He raised his hand under her chin and tilted her face to him. She looked like she was trying to be defiant but he could see the fear in her eyes.

_Fear of rejection, confusion, an expression that tore at him because he was the cause of it—_

He shook the thought away, not sure where it had come from. Hell, not sure why it had been there at all.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re here with me. With us. We’re all going to get this settled and then we’re all going back to where we belong. Where _you_ belong.”

She laughed, short and humorless. “That sounds really nice. Unfortunately, I think you’re overly optimistic. Mitchell and Teal’c are still on the Prometheus. As for the stones, I still don’t understand how that’s even possible. We found the stones, but _we_ don’t exist here. At least, not in a you and me going on an adventure and finding ancient communication devices kind of way.”

“This reality’s SG1 found them. Dr. Lee and Sam figured out something here and we’re gonna make it work to our advantage.”

“Right. So, what then? Are you going to just knock us—them—out while they traipse all over in our bodies? What happens to you and me?”

He sighed. “You felt that switch with Jack.”

“He’s used the stones. I’ve used them. You’ve used them. They have not.” She paused. “She’s pregnant, remember? What about that? I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“Maybe you have a point. Maybe it won’t work. But we’re talking about swapping out our minds. Our bodies would be fine—”

“I don’t like it. And what did she mean by looking at you and saying nothing would happen to her child? Hmm? I mean, I can see why you’d obviously be attracted to her but…”

There was the Vala he knew. That brought him more comfort than he expected.

“If something happens, she doesn’t want to be experimented on. Does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, Daniel.” Her eyes locked on his, liquid and serious. He didn’t move, waited to see where she was going with this—wanting to know where she was going with it. The world really had turned upside down.

“There’s really only one thing that would satisfy me.” She sighed. “If you’re so intent on this, let’s get it over with.”

He opened the door, nodded to the guard who followed a few feet behind him. Daniel held onto her, afraid that if he let her go, she’d bolt.

She leaned in toward him, her mouth close to his ear. “And if it doesn’t work? What then?”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

She pulled away. “Well, then. Great plan. Terrific.” She gave him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up.

“It’s the best we’ve got at the moment.”

“Yes. And that’s the scary part, isn’t it, Daniel.” She shook free of his hand, took two steps ahead of him then stopped and glanced at him. “Well?”

“Lab.” He caught up to her then she wrapped her arm around his.

“Time for an adventure.” She touched the lump on forehead. “The first thing I’m doing when we get back is getting rid of this thing.”

 

 

***

 

He hadn’t put up any fight this time. He’d stood by, surrounded by armed guards in the middle of what looked like an airplane hangar. Behind them was a ramp and up the ramp was a towering, circular ring that reminded him of something you’d use in a circus act. Which made perfect sense considering the turn this had taken.

He was sure it was the Stargate they’d all talked about, its importance evident by the way O’Neill had left his troops posted at its base.

He’d watched without protest, Aeryn’s assurances still in his ear, as medics had put her on a gurney and wheeled her out.

Vala hadn’t said anything either, which was surprising given the little bit he knew of her. They were on Earth, he wouldn’t have his doppelgänger haranguing him and they were one step closer to home. He had to trust Carter.

They’d split he and Vala up on a lower level of the facility while Jackson and Carter had followed the General in another direction. The base was US military and appeared well fortified, led by a man who made Jack Crichton look like a pushover.

Space exploration, secret bases, aliens and alien technology. He didn’t even know where to begin.

He sat in a small room, one table, two chairs each facing the other, a camera mounted in the corner. His fingers traced patterns on the table as he closed his eyes. His parents were alive. His sisters were alive, and, overhead, Scarrans had flown through an unpredictable wormhole.

_“Quite a mess you’ve created, John.” Harvey stood over his shoulder. John sat at a high school desk. Harvey was dressed as John’s physics professor, worn corduroys and the button down blue shirt that Mr. Stewart had worn on an almost daily basis._

_On the desk in front of him was the notebook, equations scrawled under his finger in blood. His own, Aeryn’s, his parents’, Earth’s…Pilot’s. All of it creating a muddy swirl of indistinguishable symbols._

_He wiped his thumb over them, started with a clean slate._

_“Do you have something helpful to say?”_

_“You’re getting closer. All the way around. The Scarrans are here. Earth is in danger. You’re half right.”_

_“What do you mean, half right?” He turned, stared up. Past Harvey were the windows and out those windows he saw his old high school grounds. The trees were on fire. People ran, dropped._

_“You’ve led the Scarrans from your homeworld. You’ve led the Scarrans to your homeworld.” He patted John on the shoulder. “Your plans never work.”_

John shook his head. There was a knock before the door opened. Aeryn was in a wheelchair, leg propped up. She wore blue scrubs with one leg cut away, and a black t shirt, her hair back in a ponytail.

Daniel Jackson manned the wheelchair. Past him stood a couple of armed personnel. John went to her and crouched down, taking her hand in his.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. John, they’re going to let you see your parents.”

He glanced up at Jackson who nodded. “We found a way that works for everyone.”

“’Works for everyone….’ Why does that sound suspicious to me?”

Jackson moved aside, let John take his place behind the wheelchair, then started down the corridor, talking as they went. “We’re short on options. Vala’s right. We need to be out of here before this world’s team comes through the gate.” He stopped and turned to John. “Do you understand?”

“ _You_ finally do.”

They stopped at an elevator, got on and took it to a new floor. More guns, more troops then a door at the end of the corridor that was unguarded.

Vala was sitting on a lab stool, looking like a petulant child with her arms crossed over her chest. She glared at him when he walked in, like she blamed him for her predicament. Fair enough. Her expression softened when she saw Aeryn then she looked away.

O’Neill, Carter and a middle aged balding man wearing glasses stood at various points in the room, the man at a computer screen, Carter near an ornate device that looked completely out of place and O’Neill at a point between the two others.

“Crichton.” O’Neill’s gaze looked past him and rested on Aeryn, then to Vala. “Carter?”

“Sir, this is Aeryn Sun.”

The other man looked up, his jaw dropped open then he snapped it shut. “General! She’s—”

“No, she’s not,” Vala said. “She’s not me. She’s someone else from somewhere else. Can we just get on with it?”

O’Neill turned to her. “You. Shut it.”

“Jack—”

O’Neill held up his hand to silence Daniel. “John Crichton. My whole team is willing to vouch for you. I’m not sure why. What can you tell me about those things that came through the wormhole?”

“They’re Scarrans,” Aeryn said. Her voice had a rasp to it that John didn’t like. “They’re ruthless and they’re at war with what used to be my people.”

“’Used to be?’”

“Long story,” John said. “The point is, you’ve got weapons that should hold them at bay until we can get this straightened out. Daniel says you have a plan.”

“Carter.” O’Neill held out his hand in a flourish as if to introduce her.

“This thing is an ancient communication device.” She put her hands on it.

John snorted. “Huh, and here I thought we were playing one of these things is not like the other. Are we communicating with Ancients?”

“The device allows communication in other places without having to be in that place, physically,” Daniel said.

Aeryn shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, be clear about it.” Vala pushed away from her seat. O’Neill took a threatening step toward her and she held up her hands in surrender. “General, I mean no harm. I just want to put it plainly. It…” She paused, chewed her lip in thought. “Well, the best I can describe is that it causes you to occupy someone else’s body. It’s your mind in their body. Let’s say if you want to talk to your parents, for example, you can, but your body stays right here.”

John scrubbed his hands over his face and laughed. “Wait. Body switching? Daniel, is this your idea of something that ‘works for everyone’? Because it does _not_ work for me.”

“See?” O’Neill said. “I told you it was crazy. Just get them all to the interrogation rooms. We need to do a debrief—”

“John.” Aeryn set the brake on the wheelchair, grabbed his arm and started to maneuver herself up.

“Aeryn, what the hell are you doing?” He put his other arm around her, tried to set her back down but she grabbed at his shoulder.

“Get me the frell out of this thing.”

He didn’t argue and helped her to her feet. She leaned into him heavily, nearly knocking him over, then straightened out as much as possible.

“General O’Neill, here’s your debrief. John is a human from Earth, but not this Earth. I’m not human. Neither are the Scarrans who followed us here. We need access to our pod for the coordinates that may have gotten us here in the first place. We need to bury our comrade, in space. We need to see John’s parents without the use of something that would separate us from ourselves. Do you understand?”

“I understand there are a hell of a lot of commands in that explanation.” His gaze flicked over her, rested on the cast. John tried to see it through O’Neill’s eyes, and only saw a person with one leg to stand on.

“And an implied threat,” he added.

“You’re wrong. There is no implication. It is a threat, and it’s attacking your world. This device of yours—it sounds like a trick.”

“It isn’t.” Daniel stepped toward the device and nodded to Vala. She stood beside him, both with their hands poised over the stones. “And we can prove it, if you’re willing to take the chance.”

John turned to Aeryn. “Your call, baby.”

She sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“If it works, you’ll want to be sitting down,” Daniel said.

Before she could protest, John moved Aeryn to the wheelchair then pushed her to the device. “Aeryn?”

She stared at it darkly, but nodded. “You’re sure this is our only option?”

“Not the only one,” Carter said. “Just the best of a lot of bad ones.”

John glanced at O’Neill. The general had moved toward the computer screen next to the other man and looked from them to the screen, then at Carter. “Well? Do it if you’re going to do it.”

“Right.” Daniel stood alongside Vala, while Aeryn sat between Vala and John. “I think we should go two at a time. John?”

“You and me, swap?”

“Well, unless you’re really anxious to be in my body,” Vala interjected.

Aeryn glared, reached over the device and grabbed Vala’s hand. Before she could protest, Aeryn pushed her hand onto the stone, and placed her own on the one opposite.

“Aeryn!” He reached for her but Daniel pulled him away.

“The program’s going crazy!” The bald man at the computer sounded like he’d just won the lottery. “Colonel Carter, are you seeing this?”

Vala pulled her hand away from the device and shook her head like she was trying to shake something out of it. She pressed her palm to her forehead, her other hand against the wall as a slow smile crept across her face. She bent her leg, flexed her fingers.

“Frell me dead,” she said.

Aeryn slumped over in the chair then drew her head up and shook her hair back, grimacing the entire way.

Daniel looked from one woman to the other. “Well…that happened.”

“Oh, this is not right.” She glanced at Vala. “Why did you do that? Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Aeryn?” John looked from the woman in the wheelchair to the one who stood ram rod straight. “Are you all right?”

Vala waved a dismissive hand at the woman in the chair then turned to John. “It works.”

“Are you ready?” Daniel said.

“Hold on.” O’Neill stepped to Vala, stood in front of her and looked her up and down. “Who are you?”

Vala squared her shoulders. “Aeryn Sun.” She had Vala’s body, Vala’s clothes, hair, but the expression was Aeryn’s—stony, unwavering and impatient—and the words were spoken in Sebacean.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” O’Neill was steadfast.

Aeryn sat in the chair—or Aeryn’s body did. The woman there was clearly uncomfortable. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair as she shifted around. Daniel moved to her side and positioned her leg on the footrest, then gave her a quick nod of encouragement.

“She’s not lying. I can assure you. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve gotten the short end of this deal. Her leg is broken and I think there’s something wrong with her head because it’s killing me.”

_Vala Mal Doran was in Aeryn’s body, and in Aeryn’s body was a child._

_Say baby, Aeryn…_

“John.” Her hand was light on his arm. He turned to her. She reached up, brushed the back of her hand over his face. He leaned into it, placed his over hers. “It’s okay. I’m fine. We’re all fine. Let’s finish this.”

“Sir?” Carter looked at O’Neill expectantly.

“I don’t like it. I didn’t like it when you asked to take Mal Doran onto Prometheus, I didn’t like it when you didn’t keep her in a cell and I don’t like this.”

“And we’re all still here, Jack,” Daniel said. “Vala didn’t run, and, as you can see, she’s not going anywhere like that.”

“Oh, thank you very much.”

“Sir, we don’t know for certain how long we can maintain the link,” Carter said. “I think the sooner we move on this, the better.”

O’Neill picked up the phone on the wall. “Walter, get Jack Crichton on the phone. Tell him it’s urgent, from me.” He nodded, hung up. “If Crichton’s available, I’ll send you.”

 


	8. Welcome Home

She sat alongside John in the back of a black motor vehicle, something John had called a “hummer”. Her head ached dully but the cast was gone. They’d given her fresh clothes--a pair of blue jeans, a blouse, boots.

It was almost perfect. Almost.

She reached for the man who sat beside her dressed in civilian clothing--dark blue neck tie and white shirt, dark gray pants, and brown shoes. The shirt’s collar was too big, the tie askew and the pants were wrinkled. Eye glasses framed his face. He tapped his fingers on his thigh; she covered his hand with hers.

“It’s going to be all right, John,” she whispered. “Daniel and Vala…”

John nodded. “I know.”

“They didn’t really give us a choice.” Was she just trying to convince herself? She’d been too hasty, too willing to gamble?

The elegance of the plan wasn’t lost on her. Her child in the care of another woman, one whom she wasn’t sure she could trust who, in turn, was in the company of the man who’d helped to save her life. She hadn’t missed the connection between Daniel Jackson and Vala Mal Doran. She had to count on that.

“Are you two doing all right?” Carter glanced back as she came to a rolling stop. She wore the formal uniform of a military branch Aeryn remembered from her last time on Earth.

“We’re alive. I shouldn’t discount that, I guess,” John took off the glasses, squinted, then put them back on. “I _had_ better than 20/20 vision.”

The sun’s heat warmed her arm. Heat delirium...but that wouldn’t be a problem in this body. She squinted out the window. The only thing she recognized about the surroundings were the palm trees.

“How much further?” she asked.

“Not much. Ten miles maybe. John?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. I recognize a lot of this. Except there’s a Walmart where there used to be a Sears.” He shrugged.

“You two sure you’re all right? I know this whole process can be jarring—”

“So you’ve done this whole body switch thing?” John said.

“Can’t say as I’ve had the pleasure. Daniel and Vala found these—“ She sighed. “In our time, they found this device. I guess we should just consider ourselves lucky that it exists here too.”

“Lucky,” Aeryn repeated. That remained to be seen.

 

***

 

General O’Neill had left her in the lab with Daniel and Dr. Lee A set of armed guards were posted outside the lab door. _Neither of them leaves here_ , had been his command. The General himself had returned to the gate room.

She touched her face again, fingered scratches and cuts that Dr. Frasier had bandaged. She couldn’t breathe deeply enough and that was making her light-headed. The rest of her felt every bump and roll that Aeryn Sun had taken out of that truck, if anyone had cared to ask.

Though she’d used the stones before, both times had involved a transfer into a healthy human body. This time, the sensation had caught her by surprise. Maybe if she’d been prepared for it, or had had time to accustom herself to it…but no. As usual she was pitched forward with her eyes closed to what was on the other side.

She shifted in the wheelchair, grateful that she didn’t have to stand.

“Daniel.” She wheeled to where he stood over the communication device, hands deep in his pockets. “Daniel, I need drugs right now.”

But it was even more than pain, though that was the main of it. It _all_ felt foreign. Her heart beat was abnormal, her back and shoulders tight, like she had spent her entire life holding them in place.

“You shouldn’t be feeling any pain. It’s her body so, I’m guessing it doesn’t register pain the way we do—“ He turned to her, the expression familiar past John Crichton’s clear blue eyes and stubborn set of his jaw. He turned to maneuver the chair to the lab stools, far from Dr. Lee, but she slapped his hand away.

“Yes, it’s her body but _I’m_ in it. Trust me, her body registers pain. And don’t tell me you’re not feeling a little weak in the knees from the kick I gave Crichton—who is at least a _human_.”

Lee looked up. “Dr. Jackson…?”

“Still here.”

Lee shook his head. “Wow…it really works. And her?”

Vala waved at him. “I assure you, it’s me in her body. Daniel? Please?”

He nodded. “I know. Maybe we can get something from a doctor...” He started for the phone. Lee moved away from the computer to the phone then covered it with his hand.

“Seriously?” Daniel said.

“I’m sorry. General O’Neill didn’t want you having outside communication. Too many people to track, he said.”

“Listen, she’s not in great shape…”

Lee turned to Vala, chewed on his lip for a moment. It seemed like forever.

“Dr. Lee?” she said.

“Okay, okay.” He nodded. “I’ll see if I can get a doctor in here. But don’t touch anything.” He pointed at each of them in turn. “Either of you. I’m not one hundred percent sure how this all works and I don’t think either of you wants to mess it up.”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Daniel said.

Lee gave them one final look then slipped out of the room. The locks slid into place.

“He’s in quite the hurry,” she said. “He could have just called her.”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah. I think this whole thing is freaking him out just a little bit.”

“You don’t say. At least he’s not the one with a duplicate wandering the galaxy.” She shifted again, gritted her teeth. “At this rate, I’d rather be a Goa’uld host again.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“Funny. Very funny.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I guess…I thought that maybe her physiology allowed her to endure more pain than we do.”

“Well, I can assure you, that’s not the case. Not at _all_ the case. She’s obviously a bad ass.”

Daniel laughed. “’Bad ass’?”

She sat up, challenged. “I said it right, didn’t I?”

He nodded. “Yes. I just don’t think I’d ever heard you say _that_ before.” He crouched beside her. “I am sorry it hurts but more medication probably isn’t a good idea. The baby…”

He pursed his lips, scowled, Daniel’s expressions incongruent on John Crichton’s face. No matter the features, that was a Daniel look. It meant he was running through a mental list, cross checking what he knew against what he didn’t. Why he couldn’t just go with it, she would never understand.

Crichton certainly seemed the go with it type… _and look where that had gotten him_.

Perhaps it was best to err on the side of caution.

He braced against the chair and brought himself to his feet, then wheeled her to a long table where two lab stools stood side by side. He set the brake and shifted past her onto one of the stools, careful not to touch her any more than necessary.

She took as deep a breath as she could—somewhere, in one of the myriad television movies she’d seen, someone had given birth, all the while being told to “breathe” in an effort to control the pain of childbirth. Breathe! Breathing hadn’t helped when she’d borne Adria. Breathing with someone else’s lungs was even less effective.

Reflexively, she rested a hand on this body’s flat stomach. No movement, no indication of any pregnancy. How would she even know? Aeryn Sun was an alien; Frasier had noticed that immediately.

Had Aeryn Sun ever contemplated ridding herself of it, a half breed child? How many times had she thought of it herself, carrying a child whose conception was beyond miraculous? Countless times until she’d found Tomin…

_Why was Daniel holding her in his arms? What had they lost?_

She shook the thought away, bit her lip to keep from sniffling. She could blame it on her leg. His expression was intent on her, sympathetic and patient, then he looked at his hands. Larger than his own, fingers heavy and thick, unlike Daniel’s own elegant long fingers. His hands had always fascinated her, too much for her own good. Lately, she felt like she’d lived a dream, lived with him…

More nonsense, all of it.

“They didn’t talk about it,” she said. “About the baby. Do you think maybe she’s hoping something might happen to it?”

“What? No. No. How could we talk about it in front of Jack?”

“What if something _does_ happen? What if it happens to _me_?” She was tired of being the incubator for alien life.

“It won’t.” His hand was on her arm but he didn’t seem to notice. He was looking past her. What was he seeing? Then he pulled away and returned to the communication device.

“You’re feeling okay, right?” He didn’t look at her.

“If you’re asking me whether I can feel her being pregnant, the way I was, the answer is no. I don’t know what being pregnant is supposed to feel like in this body. But it's nice to know you’re concerned.”

“Of course I am. If we change too much here—”

“Right. The fate of the galaxy and all that. Like Adria. Right.”

“Crichton’s hardly an Ori.”

“Why don’t you take off his clothes and let me check?” She expected him to turn away from the device, react to her needling. Instead, he acted as though she hadn’t said anything at all.

“No, he’s not Ori. But he could prove to be as destructive. The sooner we set this all back, the better for all us.”

A prison cell awaited her on the other side of this mission, if it failed. Somewhere deep in Area 51 from what she could judge. She couldn’t have agreed more.

 

***

 

 

John had stopped looking for landmarks. Where he remembered houses, there were now office buildings, coffee shops, restaurants. People gathered, going about their weekend business. It was too cool for summer and there were too many kids out…

He closed his eyes. How many Scarrans had gotten through? Had they started an attack? Carter had the radio off so he was news blind—no radio, no papers, no television news…

Was it all just a mind frell? Why not? Another Einstein concoction showing him just one more way he could fuck up humanity…outside this merry little band of space travelers, who else had he really seen?

This was Florida, this was his hometown…this was just another version of what could be.

_Unskilled wanderings create…unrealized realities…_

_Just enough to be dangerous…_

Samantha Carter certainly believed in the possibilities. She said she’d lived it, somewhere in a reality that didn’t match his own.

“Wherever you go, there you stay,” he muttered. “Aeryn?” He and Aeryn weren’t cuffed and nothing to indicate they were prisoners…

Other than a locked car and no information…

“What.” The woman who looked at him wore a familiar grim expression. She looked enough like Aeryn to fool anyone.

“I think this is a mind frell—” He glanced at Carter again and saw that her face was expressionless and hard, her jaw tight and her eyes intent on the road. Every now and again she glanced at a computer screen in front of her.

She shook her head and pointed to the windows. His father lived in a regular middle class neighborhood, a place where nothing existed that made you believe there was anything bad outside its walls. It was a place where the people who made up IASA lived: astronauts, engineers, military and civilian, its own mini society where anything was possible if you were smart enough to go after it.

Around him he saw streets dotted with uniformed military personnel. They looked more like police than anything but the military hadn’t even set that kind of force out when he and the rest of Moya’s residents had made their alien visitation.

“Wrong, wrong, wrong.” He reached across Aeryn to roll down the window but it was locked.

“Samantha?” he said.

She glanced at him in the rear view mirror. “Yeah. They’re locked. I’m sorry but it’s better for all us.”

He peeled away from Aeryn as her hand went instinctively to her thigh, looking for a pistol that wasn’t there. She reached for Carter but John grabbed her arm.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“What we should have done as soon as we got here. Commandeering this vehicle—“

“Don’t do it,” Carter said.

“Spill it, Carter,” he said. “What the hell’s going on out there?”

“Precautions,” she said. “You opened the door. We’re getting everyone out as quietly as possible.”

“You knew. You knew before we left.” He sat back, fists on his forehead. “My home. I lead them right to my home.”

“All NASA is under protection. And that includes your parents.” She came to a stop at a checkpoint, behind a smattering of personal vehicles. She turned to them. “We’re retrieving your family and taking them back to the SGC.”

 

***

 

Controlled activity was evident on the streets around them but it seemed to mask an underlying anxiety. Aeryn remembered these streets, both from John’s childhood and from their visit to his father. Both times the communal feeling of them had struck her—children shouting to each other, playing games. Parents calling them in for a meal. Even the throng of news reporters that had seemed to follow them everywhere had stayed away from Jack Crichton’s home.

The home sat there now, not much different from what she remembered. Its brick wall was intact, never destroyed in this reality. A bright flower garden decorated the front of the house, but the green grass beyond it bore foot prints and slim tire marks.

In front of each house, a civilian and a soldier herded families down the street and into a large, black transport. Small children clutched dolls and books to their chests, parents hustled along behind them with minimal belongings. The soldiers were respectful but she suspected they would take any action necessary to ensure order. Their sidearms were enough to tell her that much.

“Sam?” John said. “Really. This is really happening.”

Carter spoke, her voice laced with sadness. “The President decided it might be safer for these folks to be in custody. There are always rumors, John. Astronomers describing the wormhole…other rumors…Our program lives in secret, even here.”

“Uh-uh,” John said. “There has to be more than that—“

“The SGC and Prometheus will engage any aliens who followed you through. We can’t do anything about the wormhole. We won’t leave these people exposed.” She pulled to a stop in front of the house and turned to him. “Whatever you do, John, this isn’t the time for recriminations or confessions. We’ll debrief your family when we get them to the SGC. Not a minute before. Do you understand?”

Aeryn clutched his hand. “John?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Okay,” Carter said. “You’re Dr. Daniel Jackson, a civilian. He’s met my alternate. I don’t know if he knows you or not. Let me do the talking.”

She cut the engine and got out, unlocked the door for them. She secured her hat to her head, pinned her badge to her chest, then handed two badges to them.

“Let’s go.”

They followed her down the walkway. John was intent on the door, but Aeryn took stock. Children’s toys littered the walkway; they looked too small to belong to Bobby, John’s nephew, and they had a distinctly feminine way to them. This was not the family he’d left behind.

Carter stopped at the door and took a deep breath. Aeryn glanced behind them at the activity on the streets. There were no soldiers accompanying them.

Carter rang the bell and waited. John was breathing faster. Aeryn put her hand on his chest, felt his heart jackhammer inside. He offered her a weak smile; she slid her hand down his arm to take his hand in hers. He clutched it like a lifeline.

“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered. He nodded but he looked unconvinced.

The door opened. Jack Crichton stared at them like they were the last people he wanted to see. He was thinner than she remembered, and wore his hair close cropped in the style of the military. His eyes flickered to Carter; his expression softened and he extended his hand. This Jack was military, all business. He clearly had no interest in the civilians standing before him.

“Colonel Carter. O’Neill said you’d be paying me a visit. If he thinks you’re here to turn me out, you can tell him to go to hell.” He looked over her shoulder and cleared his throat. “Dr. Jackson,” he said evenly.

John shook her off and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Great to see you again, Jack.”

“Jack?” He shook John’s hand politely then released it. “It’s Colonel Crichton to you, Dr. Jackson.” Crichton’s eyes met hers and she nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing.

“Another member of our team,” Carter said. “Vala Mal Doran.”

“Jack?” A woman’s voice wafted to them. Aeryn had only seen her once, in another time, in what seemed a lifetime ago. John’s mother appeared behind her husband at the door. Her hair was blond and short, her face made up. She was smiling until her gaze fell on Carter’s uniform.

She turned to go but John called out to her before either Aeryn or Carter could stop him.

“Mrs. Crichton?”

She stopped, turned her head and caught his gaze. John’s eyes drank in his mother, but they weren’t his eyes, they were Daniel Jackson’s.

“I don’t recall…we’ve met, haven’t we?” Leslie Crichton bit her lip, looking unsure and childlike. She put her hands on her husband’s shoulders and peered around him at the two of them.

“Leslie, he’s part of O’Neill’s team. Daniel Jackson. You’ve met him.” Jack Crichton’s face lost its hardness as he addressed his wife then turned back to Carter. “Colonel, can we conduct our business inside?”

Carter nodded as Jack opened the door wider and they all followed him in. Leslie grabbed John’s arm as he closed the door. He flinched then looked down at her with a smile.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Jackson,” she said. “About not remembering you right away…it’s just been…” She glanced at Aeryn. “Is this your wife? She’s very pretty.”

“No. No. Not my wife. A…a friend. Co-worker.”

“Did I tell you last time? You remind me of my son. He would have been about your age—“

“Leslie, can you get us some coffee?” Jack Crichton guided his wife by the shoulders to the kitchen. “Colonel, if you’ll give us a moment.”

Carter nodded from her position near the sofa. John’s eyes averted to the kitchen. Voices, bits of whispered conversation, drifted out, Jack’s tone patient and quiet, his wife’s distracted. Aeryn grabbed John’s arm, pulled him toward her.

“Don’t,” she said. “John, you have to let this play out.”

He shook free of her and wandered to the line of pictures on the fireplace mantle. He picked one up, studied it, put it down. “Hey. That’s me. Fourth grade science fair. Look at this, Aeryn. First place, expert in making things go ‘boom’.” He shrugged. “Long time coming.”

“John. Please. We came here for a reason. That—” She lifted her chin toward the mantle. “That isn’t the reason.”

“That’s my mom in there. She’s not the woman I knew. You can see that, right? Right?”

Carter leaned forward, her voice low. “Aeryn?”

Aeryn nodded and went to him. He was still at the mantle, picking up photos, examining each one, then putting it down. She glanced at the pictures: there he was, a child. He held a fish that he’d hooked through its mouth. Jack Crichton, dark haired and smiling, stood alongside him. Another picture, John wearing a striped t shirt and smiling at the camera, both front teeth missing. Still another with him holding what looked to be a rocket, and some sort of trophy. The last picture was very much like the boy she’d seen. His hair was slicked down and he wore a tie and no smile. There weren’t any pictures after that.

She put her hand over his and leaned into his ear. “This isn’t your life. Let’s do what we came to do so we can get ours back.”

“This is a shrine, Aeryn. A fucking shrine.” He looked at her, then took off Daniel Jackson’s glasses and wiped at his eyes.

“I know. But we have a mission and we can’t jeopardize that. Pull yourself together.”

Carter cleared her throat. Jack Crichton came into the room carrying a tray of cups, a coffee pot, and a couple of other assorted bowls. “My wife won’t be joining us. All this business out there has really put her in a bad spot.”

“’Business’,” John said. “You mean evacuations because you’re in danger. I’m surprised you haven’t left yet.”

“Not sure I like your tone, Dr. Jackson. I told O’Neill. We’re leaving, in our own time. My daughters have already followed orders. Moving Leslie…well, that’s taking some convincing.”

“Sir, we’ve been instructed to take you with us,” Carter said. “And we can’t take no for an answer.”

Jack Crichton set the tray on the coffee table with a clatter of spoons and cups. Black coffee sloshed out the top of a tall cylindrical container that was painted with small red flowers. Roses, Aeryn remembered. There had been a grouping of them in the Crichtons’ back yard and Olivia had explained to her that their mother loved the flowers. “I’ve babied these things like kids,” John’s sister had told her. “They were mom’s.” And then she’d shrugged her shoulder and smiled sheepishly. “Crazy, right?”

Aeryn hadn’t thought it was crazy. She gazed at the room, noting the differences between this house and the one before, in another place. The photographs still lined the stairwell but John was right: The fireplace mantle was all him and no one else.

There was a chill in her bones. She wrapped her arms around herself. Jack Crichton hadn’t sat down and he glared at Carter looking like he had no intention of following anyone’s orders but his own.

“Get O’Neill on the horn,” he said. “I’ll give that sonofabitch a piece of my mind—“

“She won’t leave,” John said. He pulled away from Aeryn. “Let me talk to her.”

“What? You?” Jack shook his head, looking every bit as dug in as the son she knew so well. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Look… _Colonel_. We don’t have a lot of time. As a matter of fact, we have no time.” He rubbed his forehead. He seemed to have forgotten Jackson’s glasses as he knocked them away with his fingertips. “I…Hey, I have a way with people.”

“Huh. Not that I recall.” He waved John away. “I’m calling O’Neill. Colonel Carter, if you people will excuse me…” He gave them one last glance, his gaze lingering on John, then he pushed past them and left the room.

“Stubborn old son of a bitch. Some things don’t change. He’s going to his office. That guy is still my dad and he’s going to his office. It’s what he does.” He glanced at the stairs. Aeryn shot a look at Carter. The other woman nodded and came to where they stood, blocking John’s way.

“John,” Aeryn said softly. He’d gotten that same stubborn look on his face that his father wore: eyebrows cast down, eyes narrowed, blocking out all other possibilities or distractions around them. She’d seen it too many times to count.

“ _Daniel_ ,” Carter said pointedly. “Don’t rattle his cage any more than you already have. Obviously, the guy doesn’t like you.”

“’The guy’ is my dad and he can eventually see reason. And the woman upstairs is my mom. You guys stall him when he comes back. I’m going to talk to her. Tell him I went to use the bathroom or something. I don’t care.”

His eyes lit on the grip Aeryn had on his arm. He looked from it to her. She released her hold on him and nodded her acquiescence.

“Aeryn,” Carter said sharply. “That’s not our orders—“

“You’re going to have to trust him, Colonel Carter. Don’t linger, John,” she said as he was already breaking past her up the stairs.

“I hope you’re right about this,” Carter said darkly. “He was right about one thing. What we don’t have is time.”

“Well, then. We’d better not waste any more of it.”

 

***

 

The house smelled the same, a mix of flowers and sun, ocean and sand—it was home, and football, swimming, barbecues. Runs to the lake and fishing with his dad. Hanging around watching his mom cook dinner or study her cards. So much of what he’d encountered over the years smelled like death.

His head was filled with what was once, and what was in front of him. The walls looked freshly painted, a bright yellow that gave the entire living room and stairwell a sunny, cheerful glow, like someone was trying to pump the outside into the house. Flowers were everywhere, roses in colors of red, yellow and white, birds of paradise in a large glass vase at the head of the stairs. He almost bumped into it when he hit the top of the stairwell, face to face with something he’d destroyed in what seemed a lifetime ago.

 _You’re Daniel Jackson_. Dr. Daniel Jackson. After that, he had no idea what Jackson’s designation stood for. His heart beat fast in his chest as he peered down the hallway. Same number of doors…all of them open but one.

 _My daughters have already gone._ Where had they gone? He hadn’t even asked where this was all going to end, so caught up in seeing his parents again, in being trapped in a body that wasn’t his, in relief that Aeryn was alive. Carter was doing the talking. His only purpose in coming along was to see where he’d gone wrong.

The first open door was Susan and Livvy’s old room. The twin beds were gone, and the room was painted white. A double bed took up most of the floor space, a nightstand with a simple white shaded lamp on the side between the wall and the bed.

His room had been across from his sisters. He looked over his shoulder, stopped, listened. He didn’t hear his father’s voice and the women in the living room were silent as well. His hand found the doorknob; he took a deep breath, opened the door and found his mother sitting on his bed.

 _Breathe, dammit, breathe_ but his breath was caught in his throat. The room was musty and closed up, the navy blue curtains drawn across the window blinds. She sat on a twin size bed. The walls bore posters that weren’t his—the space shuttle Challenger, an autographed photograph of astronauts, his father included. The dresser held a stack of books, the names of which he couldn’t quite make out. The walls were blood red, when he remembered his being grey. White pillows topped off the bed—red, white and blue…his father must have been proud of this son.

His hand went to his forehead, rubbing at the headache that was blooming behind his eyes. The room was a flood of memories, but none of them his. His room had posters of cars and girls and football players; his grades and studies were almost an afterthought. His father wasn’t his hero, then, but a guy who got in his way.

But his mother…

Leslie Crichton sat on the bed, her head down, eyes closed and her hands grasped around something too small to see.

He rapped softly on the door. “Mrs. Crichton?” he said, thankful that Daniel Jackson’s voice hadn’t wavered.

She jumped a little and turned to face him, her hands still closed. Her face reddened in embarrassment like she’d been caught doing something wrong. How many times had his father caught her here, like this? He felt himself getting angry at the thought—if the woman wanted to grieve, let her—but it was almost twenty five years since he’d died. Had she spent the last twenty five years like this?

Her face was gaunt behind the make-up, her eyes red. She’d been crying, in his room. _You remind me of my son_ she’d said—was it just Daniel Jackson she was seeing or something more?

_That’s what you want her to see._

“Dr. Jackson,” she said.

“Daniel. Just call me Daniel.” Daniel Jackson took his glasses off and fought the urge to hold her tightly and tell her it was all right, that John Crichton, her son, was alive, that she could quit grieving, that she could live her life and revel in her grandchildren whose toys were scattered all over her front lawn.

“You must think me silly.” She looked at her hands.

“No.” He stood at the threshold. “You said I reminded you of your son. Is this is room?”

She nodded and bit her lip. “Yes. He…he passed away a long time ago. I…my husband and my daughters have told me it’s not healthy to keep it this way. Twenty five years is long time to not change anything.”

“I know…it’s difficult. I’ve lost people…” He stopped. _I’ve lost you_ … No recriminations, no confessions. Not yet.

 _I understand loss_ , Aeryn had once said. At the time, the admission had taken him by surprise. Since then, their losses had built one on the other: Zhaan, Talyn, Crais. Pilot. His twin. Her mother. Her home. How different would his life have been had Aeryn not come back to him? Imagining twenty five years of that roiled his stomach.

Showing pain was a sign of weakness; she’d told him that too. He’d acted as though he understood pain and loss, as though he understood that it couldn’t be locked up under a stoic front, bottled up and hidden behind like armor against more hurt. Hell, he hadn’t done _that_. That was Aeryn’s M.O.

He’d been so certain then but he knew nothing. Standing in what was never his room, looking at the woman who was and was not his mother, watching dust motes catching the little bit of light that fought through the dark curtains…he had done exactly the same thing as Aeryn, all these years since his mother had died. Enough to bring him here.

His mother was dead. The woman who sat in front of him seemed like she wanted to be.

“My husband is right,” she said. “He told me we had to get out of here.”

“The evacuation—“

“No. A long time ago. It wasn’t healthy, he told me. But we had friends here. Johnny’s things were here. He was here. My daughters took it badly and I didn’t want to uproot them…and then they moved, and got married and had kids and lives and husbands and…I should have left then.”

She bowed her head. He’d lost his mother almost eight years ago. _I understand loss…_

“Could’a. Would’a. Should’a,” he said.

She nodded, a wistful smile on her face. “Yes. Yes.”

“I…I can’t tell you what to do. I lost my mother almost eight years ago. I…I threw myself into my work. Space exploration.” He kept it purposely bland yet all true. “Mrs. Crichton, you’re alive. Alive. You have kids, and grandkids, and a husband. I know your son would not want you to live this way. I know it! Please, just come with us so you we can get you somewhere safe.”

Her expression was thoughtful, the way she was when she’d look at her cards. Like she was reading him, trying to look past the surface to what could be discerned beneath it. Looking past his face to the man behind it.

_Wishful thinking._

Were the cards what she held in her hands?

She reached out to him. He stepped into the room like he was fighting through a barrier. He grasped her hand as the other fell to her lap, still closed.

“I’ve packed a suitcase,” she said. “It’s in the bedroom. Just a few things for a few days. Some important things.”

“Right.” His eyes were fixed on her closed fist. In a few days he would be gone, one way or the other. What was in her hand? Her right hand was in his as he helped her to her feet. He glanced at her left hand, saw the single gold wedding band.

The ring. His mother’s ring was gone. Stolen, lost, he had no idea. He and Aeryn had been separated almost the moment they’d hit earth and finding her had been his single minded goal. Setting things right was the next one. And on and on, no time to worry about his mother’s ring.

She squeezed his hand and then released her grasp on it. He did the same. She opened her palm, plucked the ring from where she held it and slipped it over her finger to rest against the gold band.

“I’m ready,” she said.

 

***

 

“O’Neill won’t take no for an answer,” Jack Crichton was saying as John made his way down the stairs, lugging the large suitcase his mother had packed. The clack-clack of its wheels silenced the man. John looked down, his mother behind him with her fingertips on his shoulder like he was her guide, her purse slung over one shoulder. Aeryn raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. Carter kept her face expressionless but it was Jack on whom he was focused. Jack Crichton, hands on his hips, glaring at him with eyes full of judgment then softening when he saw Leslie.

“Dr. Jackson? I thought I asked you not to bother my wife…” His voice drifted off as Leslie hit the foot of the stairs behind John and walked to her husband.

“Jack, just let it go. Daniel…” She glanced at him, let her gaze linger, then turned back to her husband. “Daniel was nice enough to get me moving. I’ll be fine, Jack. Anyway, it’s just for a few days. Right?”

She scanned the faces looking at her, Carter with a wistful smile, Aeryn’s eyes encouraging. He knew her well enough to know she felt anything but.

“Right,” John said too quickly. The suitcase gave a final thump as he set it squarely on the floor.

“Daniel?” Carter said. “Let’s give the Crichtons a moment to get the house locked up. Colonel, I trust you’ll be outside in a few minutes?”

“We’ll be right out.”

Carter nodded and walked to where John stood, grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door. Aeryn took one more look around the house then followed them outside, closing the door behind her.

“What the hell was that?” Carter turned on him, her calm dissipating in the noise around her. He glanced up and down the street again. Some of the houses were already closed up but there was still plenty of activity.

“I got her downstairs. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“What did you tell her?” Aeryn said.

“I understand loss, Aeryn. You told me that. She doesn’t want to leave because Johnny's still here. She thinks she’s coming back…” He looked at Carter. “She’s not coming back, is she.”

Carter shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“But you think it unlikely,” Aeryn put in.

“It doesn’t matter what I think. We all know what our mission is. If it’s successful—and we all better hope it is—we won’t know how it’ll end up.”

“Great. Just great.” He looked down, caught the toys on the lawn. Their owners intended to be back, that was obvious. Kids’ toys, his nieces, it looked like, or at least one niece. Olivia had a family, someone had said. She was married with a kid, maybe. She’d wanted that; she would have made a great mom. People had been living their lives here, without him, and somehow he’d screwed it all up.

Aeryn’s had a stranglehold on his arm as she shook him. “John. I know what you’re thinking. Stop it.”

“Stop what, Aeryn. Remember when we did this the last time. Remember how many people died because we screwed with history?”

“This isn’t the same thing.”

He shook her off. “Sam, are we gonna accept that these people are gonna die? Or be enslaved? Because I know what’s on the other side of that wormhole. Believe me, it’s not pretty.”

“If we can reset…” Carter began but he could tell by the expression on her face that she didn’t believe it either.

“We have to take them with us, Aeryn. My family. My sisters, their husbands and kids, my parents…”

“We’re moving them to a safe location,” Carter said.

“Not good enough.”

“You know that’s not possible,” Carter said.

“Why? Tell me why. Aeryn?”

Aeryn shook her head; her voice was low and unsure, her eyes downcast. “Where will they go? With us? If we get back to Moya, they go with us? What about your father and your sisters in _our_ reality? And what about everyone else here? We can’t take them all.”

John looked up and down the street, at faces he didn’t recognize, at the remains of people’s lives scattered on their green, manicured lawns.

“Maybe not. But we can’t leave them here to die. Not because of something I did. Not again. We’re not gonna cut and run to save our asses.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze sweeping the streets around them--scanning for threats, formulating a strategy? Maybe this time she was just trying to figure out how she was going to talk him out of it.

“I’ve been down this path more than once, though, and I can tell you, some things you have to accept,” Carter said.

He glanced at Aeryn, saw her nod, Vala Mal Doran’s clothes and wild hair incongruent with the stoniness he saw on her face.

“We can’t let innocent people die,” she said.

Before she could say anything more, the front door to the Crichtons’ home opened and closed in one fluid move. The bolts shot through as Jack Crichton locked his home. He carried a briefcase in one hand, and had the suitcase behind him, his wife’s arm threaded through the crook of his own. He stopped at the top of the walkway, left the suitcase there and pulled away from his wife, then set about to righting the toys strewn on the lawn before returning to Leslie’s side.

He gave her a quick kiss on her hair, then turned to Carter. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

 

***

 

John sat alongside Aeryn in the third seat of the SUV, Carter driving and the Crichtons in the middle seat.

“What are your orders, Colonel Carter?” Jack Crichton said.

“Patrick,” she said. She guided the SUV down the roadway, the low hum of a radio broadcast coming through the vehicle’s speakers. John caught the words “white house”, “air force”, “evacuations” but all that seemed evident in the world around them.

Leslie turned around in her seat, looking past him, past Aeryn. He saw the house through his mother’s eyes.

The house where he lived until he was sixteen and died. The place where her grandkids came to visit. Olivia, Susan, Bobby, Frank…little kids he hadn’t met, was never meant to encounter. Scarrans or lions, and tigers, and bears, were going to follow him through the wormhole, just like the Skreeth had last time, to kill people he knew. People he loved.

DK...was he a science geek or had he’d given up on his dreams once Johnny Crichton was out of his life?

It wasn’t so long ago that he was there, putting up Christmas trees without Christmas, glancing through photo albums at pictures of a woman who’d been dead for years, while Olivia peered over his shoulder. Not so long ago that she’d handed him their mother’s ring with hardly a word for its intent.

“We can do this, John,” Aeryn whispered.

He nodded and patted her hand absently; she withdrew as Jack glanced back at them.

 

***

 

Vala had tried not to move as she’d waited. Daniel was pacing between the communication device and the computer where he’d look at each object, then back at her. Finally, she’d reached out her hand to him and he’d sat down on the stool beside her, staring down at her but not really seeing. He had that faraway look in his eyes, the same one he got when he’d study his old books or what all, that same one that she’d always seen as meant to shut her out.

She didn’t care. Her discomfort had abated as long as she didn’t move too much. She didn’t feel much like talking, was in no mood to argue, cajole, flirt. Bed and meds. That was all.

She was ready to give up hope of either when the door opened and Lee returned with Dr. Lam, and General O’Neill. He shut the door with a loud bang.

“What the hell’s going on in here?” He looked from Daniel to her. “Crichton?”

Daniel looked up. Vala caught the nod between the two men and knew. Four people in the room knew who was who and what was what. Carolyn Lam wasn’t one of them.

Daniel put his hand on her shoulder and stood up. “General. She—she’s not feeling well.”

Vala nodded once, affirming what he said. Saying nothing the way she imagined Aeryn Sun would do.

The General glanced down at her. In his eyes, she saw concern, certainly for the woman whose body she wore; for her, there’d been nothing but contempt. Just how horrible was she in this reality? Even in her early days with SG1, at worst they’d treated her as an annoyance.

“Doctor, can you give her something?” O’Neill said.

“No. No, it’s all right.” She shook her head, felt like her brain was rattling between her ears. Her voice faded…not her voice and certainly not the tone she’d heard from Aeryn Sun.

Lam looked disapproving. “I think you should reconsider. With what you’ve been through, it might take the edge off.” She turned to O’Neill. “Sir, the cast is just temporary. She needs surgery. The bone won’t heal on its own. We need to get in there and pin it together—”

Vala held up her hand to stop Lam’s litany of injuries, felt her stomach want to heave at the thought of bits of bone running through this body. Where was that damned healing device when you needed it! Her other hand fought against the wheelchair armrest to keep her upright. Surgery? _Gods, General, say no--_

“No,” he said. “Not now. I need Daniel and Vala back here and…”

Lam blinked at him, surprised. “Sir, I don’t see how that has any bearing on this situation.”

Daniel was staring at her in the haze around her vision Or was it John Crichton? Or Cameron Mitchell? Some blue eyed man was staring at her, then he was squatting in front of her, one hand gripping her upper arm so she felt pinned into the chair, the other snapping its fingers. It all looked independent of his body.

“I’m fine. Fine.” But all she heard was a gurgling sound without enunciation. Her mouth felt disconnected from her face.

John Crichton’s eyes widened in fear. He had her by the arms, pushing her against the pliable seat. O’Neill said something— _break the connection!_ John was picking her up from the chair, lifting her onto the table. Lee scuttled around. She grabbed for her throat, felt at least one set of hands pumping her chest, then a mouth over hers. The air in the room moved as she slid out of John Crichton’s grasp—

She was on a roller coaster, she was sliding through a beam—she hated the beam—her body was being sucked through a hose, squeezed until she couldn’t breathe—

No pain, no pain, no pain, no air, no air, no air…

 

***

 

Air! Vala jolted in her seat, hand at her throat, then glanced at Daniel who sat beside her in the third seat of a SUV. In front of them sat an older couple, a silver haired man who sat up straight and tall in his seat, and a woman next to him. Her arm was wound tightly through the man’s; when Vala peered over the seat she could see the woman’s slim, veined hands grasping his.

“Daniel?” She tugged on his sleeve. “Daniel!”

Her companion turned to her, his eyes narrowed as he studied her expression. Then he grabbed and pulled her to him.

“What the hell is going on?” His breath was hot in her ear. He shook her once. “Vala?”

She nodded, patted herself down; she didn’t really have to check to know. She felt like herself, pain free, breathing normally, her own clothing, her own hair…

“What did you do?” he said. “Where is she?”

Vala pulled away from the grip on his arm and nodded toward the couple in front of them.

“You having problems back there, Dr. Jackson?” the silver haired man asked.

“It’s fine, Colonel. Fine.” John Crichton, in Daniel Jackson’s skin, was every bit as threatening as he was in his own. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him, whispering in her ear again. “I’m telling you now, Vala, if you’ve screwed the pooch on this—“

She pushed him away. “I most certainly did not ‘screw’ any pooch! I don’t know what happened…the connection must have severed…” How, why—she had no idea and she wasn’t about to accept blame for something that wasn’t her fault.

The older gentleman, Jack Crichton, she assumed, turned around in his seat and shot John a warning stare. “Are you two sure you’re all right?”

“Thank you, Colonel, we’re fine,” Vala said. “How are you?”

“Daniel?” Carter’s voice floated to the back of the vehicle.

“It’s all good, Sam,” she said. She felt a sharp jab in her ribs.

Jack Crichton’s eyebrow shot up in question. “This is no time for a fight with your girlfriend, Dr. Jackson.”

Vala fought back the smile she felt coming on. “Oh, no, you’ve got it wrong.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jack said. “Just reminding you both that you have bigger problems on your hands right now.”

“Right, Colonel,” John said. “You are absolutely right.”

Jack Crichton nodded and turned back to his wife.

“What happened to Aeryn?” John whispered. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know what happened, and I don’t know if she’s okay. She…I…I don’t know. Daniel won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Yeah? He already has.” John leaned his head against the window, grinding his jaw like it was working his brain. “I need to get back there.”

“You can’t. Look.” She nodded her head toward the couple in front of them. “This is what you wanted. And we’ll be back at the SGC soon enough.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Don’t you think that if something happens to one of you, it could be bad for all of us?”

“You have no idea.” He turned back to the window.

Whatever was happening now, she was sure it was bad for at least one of them.

 


	9. Wolves

_Cold water rushing into her lungs, the chair a weight that pulled her under as she fought against the heaviness in her chest._

_His death opening a hole in the pit of her stomach, engulfing her the way the wormhole had engulfed the dreadnought…she would be nothing soon…_

_Crowded streets rose below her…if she closed her eyes hard enough, she could imagine the gap between the streets and her head closing, closing, closing until all she heard was one sickening wet sound then nothing…._

_Wanted to die when heat had seared through her body, forcing memories out of her lips._

_Lived when Zhaan’s life blossomed inside her, pulling her off the brink where she’d stared down into a blue, swirling void—_

_Wormhole? Pilot knew wormholes, had flown one at least once, now twice._

_I still carry some of your DNA…Pilot…_

_Pilot was dead, she was dead, they were all dead—_

_Not now, not now when it was perfect…we were so perfect…_

_The child was released from stasis, another life growing inside her, another life to protect, to save._

…a mouth over hers, hands pumping her chest, a rhythmic beat she remembered—

_…breathing for me - keeping my blood flowing so I don't die…_

Her arms flailed at her sides, pushed against the person who was holding her hand. She kicked against the air rising in her lungs. Pain coursed through her like a wake up shot and she opened her eyes.

Dr Lam stepped back when Aeryn grabbed her wrist but the woman had a grim look of satisfaction on her face.

“Alive!” she said.

Aeryn turned her head to the side. Bile surged up her throat as she vomited on the floor. John stood on the other side of the table, his hand still covering hers. She met his eyes; they were concerned, compassionate. Daniel Jackson. He crushed her fingers in his grasp.

“You’re going to be okay.” He brushed her hair away from her forehead then drew back like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

“General, I need to get her to the infirmary.” Lam stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

“This is not a good time.” O’Neill moved from the computer to where she lay. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, tried to say “yes” but the word was trapped in the tightness of her chest and every breath brought a stabbing in her side.

_Frell, have I broken something else?_

O’Neill nodded and almost looked sympathetic.

“What happened?” Daniel said.

Lee’s hands hovered over his computer keyboard like he wasn’t sure what to touch first. “I don’t know. The readings went everywhere for a second…I’m sure Colonel Carter would know…”

“She’s not here, is she,” O’Neill said. “So figure it out. Doctor Lam, as usual, thanks for your life saving. You can go now.”

Lam shook her head. “What’s going on here, General?”

“An experiment. She’ll be all right, right?”

“I don’t know.” Lam snapped out each word. “That’s why I need to get her to the infirmary. This is an alien life we’re talking about. Do you even realize the type of incident you might incite should something happen to her? What if her people come looking for her? You haven’t given me enough time to run diagnostics—”

“Do you even know what you’re looking at, Carolyn?” O’Neill said. “You can hook her up to all the machines you want but, ultimately, you really don’t know what you’re seeing, do you.”

“So just let her sit here then? That’s the answer? I’m sorry, General, but this is wrong and it could have ramifications beyond the people in this room.”

Aeryn grabbed Daniel’s arm, anchored herself to sit up. “No. No. There are no people. Just me. I’m fine. Okay. No incidents. John, tell them. I’m fine.”

General O’Neill stepped forward, looking a little less formidable. “You’re sure you’re okay.”

She nodded.

“There you have it, doctor. Patient’s fine. Now, if you’ll leave us here, I need to get these two back to debriefing.” He put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the door.

“General, this is against my medical advice.”

“Noted.” He opened the door, gave her a small push then closed it behind her. “Okay. Answers, anyone? Daniel, you’re still in there, right?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Daniel glanced at her. “Vala? You’re okay?”

She wasn’t sure if he knew or not, decided it was better to play along for the time being. “Huh—oh. Right. Right.” She gave a thumbs up, felt her mouth stretch in a wide smile while the world around her spun. Vala Mal Doran—did that put her in a better or worse position?

“So.” O’Neill touched the side of the device gingerly, avoiding the stones. “Daniel?”

“Dr. Lam was administering medication. Uh…I’m guessing that it didn’t work with her body chemistry and sent her into convulsions. Or…” His words trailed off and he pursed his mouth in thought.

“Daniel? Or what?”

“Or something happened at the other end, maybe?”

Aeryn squeezed his arm again. He winced, glanced down at her, and took a deep breath.

“Something like what?” O’Neill said.

Daniel shook his head. “If something happened to Aeryn on the other end, it could have affected Vala.”

“But you’re still Daniel Jackson. Right? _Daniel_? So if something happened, it only happened to her.” He turned to Lee. “What does your computer say?”

Lee shrugged. “I have four different representations of energy signatures. I think. Three are the same— all the humans—and one is different but they’re all just the physical representations. We already know Aeryn’s body is right here.” He pointed at her. “I just don’t have any way of knowing who’s in what body.” Lee sat back on the stool and rested his chin in his hand. “Kind of a problem, I guess.”

“Kind of?” O’Neill turned to Daniel. “When’s your birthday?”

“July 8, 1965. Why?”

O’Neill shook his head and pointed at Aeryn. “And you? Your birthday?”

Daniel shook his head. “Jack, you don’t know when her birthday is. And even if you had a date, it’s probably a lie.” He glanced at her, shrugged. “Sorry, Vala, but you don’t have a great track record in the truth department.”

“Sir, I’ll search the logs, see if I can figure out…” Lee said. “This is all new to me. It might take some time.”

“Well, get moving.”

Aeryn tried to maneuver herself sideways off the table, regretted it immediately as a wave of pain washed over her. Whatever pills or potions this base contained had little effect. Her leg was useless. John was somewhere else, presumably with Vala Mal Doran, and she was stuck here with Daniel, incapacitated.

The only place with surgical reconstructors to which she had access was Moya. That seemed like another life.

“Maybe Lam is right,” O’Neill said. “You look terrible, Mal Doran.”

“No. No, really. I…I’m good. Fine.” _Keep moving, keep in the open_ …she couldn’t face being in a bed, at the mercy of medical technicians who knew nothing of her body. Next time…next time it might not be so easy to breathe.

“Jack, maybe I can just get her to my quarters, let her rest, get cleaned up…”

“Your quarters, huh?” O’Neill squinted at them. “Why yours?”

“Because I have clothes there. Because I like my own towels. Because someone has to babysit her and it might as well be me.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

Daniel laughed. “Come on. Where are we going to go? I mean, look at her. She’s a mess.”

“Daniel.” She touched his arm and he turned to her, nodded.

“Yes, I said babysit. Do you have a problem with that?”

She shook her head, said nothing…what was he doing?

“Jack?”

“Fine. But no funny business, Daniel. I don’t have time to babysit either of you.” O’Neill opened the door, motioned to the guard who stood there. “Airman, escort Colonel Mitchell and his companion to his quarters.” He glanced at Daniel. “’Mitchell,’ I think you know my expectations.”

Daniel nodded. “Sir.” He turned to her. “Works for me. How about you?” His gaze searched her face for signs of…of what, she wasn’t sure. Vala?

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you say.”

The look on his face said it all; she suspected that was exactly the wrong thing to have said.

 

***

 

He’d pushed the wheelchair down the corridor to Mitchell’s quarters, grateful for a tour guide. He had no idea if Mitchell’s quarters were in the same place, where his were…nothing.

Too easy, all too easy but he was going to take advantage of Jack’s largess for the time being.

He exchanged his pleasantries with the guards, pushed her wheelchair into the room then shut the door behind him.

First things first. “You’re not Vala.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because Vala would have made comments about towels, showers, undressing, helping me undress…” He squatted down, looked her in the eye. “And she never would have unequivocally agreed with me, though I suspect that’s something you don’t do much of either.”

“I almost died! Do you think I’d make comments after that?”

“Ok. Tell me. What happened between us on the Odyssey?” He dug his hands into his pockets, rocked on his heels. Waited. Realized how much he really would like to know.

“What difference does it make?”

“Not much, I guess. Except…” He closed his eyes for a moment, surprised that the idea of it caused him pain.

“What?”

“I…I just hope she’s okay. That’s all. I mean, I know she’s alive. That’s the way the technology works. If she’s dead, you…well, you would be too.”

“You tell me this now?” She grabbed his collar, pulled him forward to where he had to catch the chair to avoid losing his balance. “We could have died? What exactly happened?” She released him and pushed him. He fell back.

“Just what I told Jack. Whatever Lam gave Vala messed with your body chemistry.”

“I trusted you, Daniel. And I told John to trust you.”

“And I had no reason to believe that anything like that would happen. We’re low on options, Aeryn, but, as far as Jack is concerned, and as much as he distrusts Vala, you’re the wild card here. You’re the non human, the unknown. This wormhole thing, these aliens—that’s your technology, not John’s and certainly not Jack’s. You’re better off pretending. He never would have let us out of that room if he thought you were Aeryn Sun.”

“So…what now? Other than you getting your shower and a change of clothes.”

“One more question?”

“What?”

“Your…the baby…” _Spit it out, Jackson…_

She put her hands over her abdomen, sagged a little in the chair. “I don’t know. And I don’t have the luxury of worry at the moment.”

“Fair enough.” The expression on her face told him the subject was closed.

He got to his feet, wandered to the closet then opened the door. Civilian clothes—leather jacket, jeans, slacks, a couple of shirts took up a corner of the small space. The rest of it held crisply pressed BDUs hung in a straight line of blue and green. Two sets of camouflage, one set of black, two pair of boots spit polished to a deep shine.

He grabbed a set of blue BDUs, slipped the jacket over his shoulders, then walked into the bathroom and studied himself in the jacket. Crichton was a little bulkier than Mitchell, and the jacket was tighter than he expected, but no one in passing would notice. He slid the jacket off and laid it over the towel rack then went back to the dresser.

Clothing was neatly stacked in the top drawer—boxer briefs, black t-shirts, socks. He scooped them up, grabbed the pants, a pair of boots then went into the bathroom.

“Daniel?” The wheels squeaked on the concrete floor as she maneuvered behind him toward the bathroom.

He shut the door in her face, stripped off his clothes, caught his reflection yet again and felt a certain sense of voyeurism—not his body, not even Cameron Mitchell’s but John Crichton. The whole thing was…weird.

He turned away, flipped on the shower and stepped in, letting the warm water slide over him.

“Daniel!” The rapping on the door stopped then he heard it open.

“Do you mind?”

“Your privacy is the least of my concerns. What is your plan?”

“There’s a device Vala brought with her.” He soaped and rinsed at almost the same time, scrubbed shampoo through his hair, rinsed again.

“I’m not so sure about your devices. This one has caused more harm than good.”

“Did John get to his parents? Wasn’t that the idea? The ‘plan’? You were there, weren’t you? What happened?”

She was quiet, long enough that he knew he’d struck a nerve.

“Aeryn?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

She sighed. “We saw them. Her. I…I’d met his father before. His mother…she seems empty.”

“Empty.”

“Lost. In time.”

He snorted. “Well, that sounds like it’s going around.”

“Mourning. The Crichtons have met you and Colonel Carter before, Daniel. John’s mother has been dead for almost ten cycles—years. But she was right there…” She sighed.

He turned off the water, grabbed for his towel then ran it through his hair. Wrapped it around his waist and stepped out onto the cold floor.

“Do you have parents?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Yes and no. My people don’t believe in family. I was born on a command carrier—a ship not unlike your Prometheus but much more advanced.” She looked at him. “I was raised to be a pilot, a soldier. To live and die in service.”

“So how do you end up here? How do you end up with John Crichton?”

She shrugged. “Ambition. Pride. Fate.” She sucked in a long breath, her eyes steady on his. “The same things that brought us here. We’ve already frelled up this world’s destiny.”

“The sooner we can all get back—”

She held up her palm to silence him. “No. It’s too late for that. Don’t you see? There’s an open wormhole to this world. We’ve only seen their advance. They’ll send more.” She paused. “John has a plan of sorts.”

“’A plan of sorts…’ I don’t like the sound of that.”

She analyzed him like she was making sure all was what she’d remembered, a gaze direct enough that he felt like the towel was doing absolutely nothing to provide any sort of privacy.

Unlike Vala, she said nothing. No playfulness in her expression, just a grim reckoning of the person in front of her.

“What?” he said finally.

She met his gaze. “I’ve lost this man once before. I won’t do it again. What is _your_ plan?” She bit out the words.

He sighed. “Vala has Ancient technology that can heal injuries. She had it with her when we came through the gate.”

“And…you want to use this device on me?” She almost looked hopeful.

“Well…get my hands on it, at least. Vala can access it. Sam can access it. I…well, I don’t have that particular ability.”

Hope gave way to stoicism. “So then this little ruse of yours is for nothing.”

“No. Not true. I needed to see how much is different, how far off the mark we are.” He snagged his boxers off the counter, slipped into them then pulled on the rest of his clothes. Dressed like a member of the SGC…he turned to the mirror, spiked up his hair a little bit, crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance in a way that felt completely unnatural.

Aeryn stared at his reflection, bit her lip a little. “Mitchell.”

He walked out of the bathroom and she followed. “Exactly. As far most anyone else is concerned, I’m Cameron Mitchell. It’s too bad Jack knows I’m not. ”

She wheeled to the door, touched it like she was going to divine what was on the other side. “Do you have a weapon here?”

“You’re in no condition…Aeryn, what’s his plan?”

“Save your world. He can’t leave until he knows we’ve defeated whatever they send your way.”

He looked up, snorted without meaning to. Her only reaction was a quick raising of her eyebrow.

“Seems to me like closing that wormhole would do the trick. Otherwise, it’s not much of a plan,” he said.

“They never are. Weapon?”

He went back to the dresser, rifled through the clothing. “Good old Mitchell.” A holster. He pulled it out, held it up. An empty holster.

“Well, that’s helpful.” She held out her hand; he tossed the holster to her, hearing the ping of a small, metal object hitting the cement floor.

She glanced down at it. “Oh.”

“There’s got to be a box somewhere.” He scooped the key off the floor, then went to the closet. His hands felt along the top shelf…

The key fit the lock. Inside the box was a black 9mm. He dumped the extra cartridges onto the bed then stuffed them in his jacket pockets. Her gaze rested on the pistol as she chewed her lip thoughtfully, her right hand clenching and unclenching like someone who could feel the gun in her grasp.

Unnerved, he strapped the holster to his chest then slid the gun in place.

“Don’t get any ideas about us using it,” he said. “I mean, it’s probably not a bad thing to have but…it wouldn’t do us any good to go out there shooting….anyone.”

“Well, it’s better than being shot at.” She eyed him one more time then rearranged herself in the chair, looking for a comfortable way to sit. Adrenaline, drugs, self sufficiency—whatever had kept her more or less comfortable earlier seemed to be wearing off. “This thing you’re looking for…”

“There’s a storage facility where we lock everything up for cataloging. I’d like to see just what’s in there.”

“You realize this is all too easy.”

“It crossed my mind.”

“And you’re likely walking us right into a trap.”

He nodded. “Maybe. So it gets us what? Locked up? That’s no worse off than we were before. This plan of John’s, ‘saving the world’…what does that mean?”

“The Scarrans have already followed us here and started an attack. Don’t you think it’s just a matter of time before more show up?”

“The wormhole…”

“Even if we leave, there’s no guarantee they wouldn’t stay behind and take what they can. Which is why I have to talk to the General from my perspective.” She emphasized the word “my” with a slap to her chest. “No more pretending. You’re going to break this connection between you and John. We’re going to our pod and then we’re going to figure out a way to set this right.”

“That simple, huh?” He snapped his fingers.

She closed her eyes for a moment like she was channeling something else. “Time. We’re on the brink, and if we don’t do something now, we may never get the chance.”

He shook his head. “First we have to see what we’ve got. Then we can talk to Jack.” He didn’t wait for her answer as he wheeled her out the door, hoping that his guise as Lt Colonel Cameron Mitchell would carry more weight than Daniel Jackson ever could.

 

***

 

 

 

“This is the place?” Aeryn looked at him dubiously.

He tried the door knob and, to his surprise, the door swung open. She wheeled past him then he shut the door behind them and locked it.

“This is my office.” The room was cramped, messy, just like his own. Dusty ancient books sat on the table and the book case behind it held more.

 _The notebook…symbols_. There’d been some degree of familiarity. He walked to the bookcases, sliding books off the shelves, flipping through them, putting them back. His books were still here. Nothing about Merlin, nothing about the Ori but the rest of it seemed in order as far as he could tell.

He reached for another book, flipped through it. Some of the symbols caught his eye. Ancient with some references to Egypt. He held it out to her.

“Does any of this look familiar?”

She wheeled forward and examined the pages then looked up at him. “John has this…” She held up her hands, thumbs and forefingers joining each other to form a triangle. “Like this. We never talked about it but I saw it after—” She paused. “We…it looks like a pyramid and it had some symbols like that.” She waved her index finger at it, then shook her head. “That’s all I know.”

“Some of those symbols are in his notebook, Aeryn. His tile, his symbols, my book.” He snapped the book shut and handed it to her. “There’s some connection between our worlds and yours.”

She glanced at the book disinterestedly, then set it on her lap. “Excellent. So what?”

“So…So that might mean there’s a gate address to someplace out there. To your world.”

“But this isn’t the world either of us know so that is pointless.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What does _that_ mean?”

He sighed. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been confronted with other versions of ourselves. Other realities. This version has the communication device that Vala and I found, but Vala and I didn’t find it here.”

She held the book in her hands, leafed through it. “So our salvation may come from this world’s you?”

He shrugged. “There’s really no way of telling. I don’t know enough to know what’s different.”

“Yet it feels similar enough that your own commanding officer trusts you and Colonel Carter.” She handed the book to him. “I am certain of one thing, Daniel. Without the readings from our pod, it’s doubtful you’ll recreate whatever phenomenon brought us both here. Which means, I need to be out of this frelling wheelchair and on my own two feet. We’re wasting time.”

“I know, I know.” He tapped his foot in thought. Even if he could Colonel Mitchell his way out of here, there was no way to do it without notice.

“Prometheus. Do you have any way to contact them?”

“Not from here.”

“From where, then?”

He thought for a moment. “The control room.”

She looked at him, mouth drawn down in disappointment. “Where the General is currently.”

“Listen, Aeryn. It’s not like we have a lot of options. I may look more or less like Mitchell, but I can’t fly a ship. You’re injured. You’re _pregnant_.” He paused, let that settle on her. “You shouldn’t even be out of bed, much less contemplating a grand escape.”

She squirmed in the chair, her expression affirming what they both already knew—she wasn’t going anywhere outside of this base. “You can surreptitiously reach Colonel Mitchell while in General O’Neill’s presence.”

She was needling him, or at least trying to. He’d already had the best as far as getting under his skin was concerned. “No. We’re going to talk to Jack, get him to get us over there. I know him. He’s not much for sneak attacks. And he knows as long as I’m like this—” He pulled at his jacket. “I’m not going anywhere. And he trusts me.”

“Really.” Aeryn glanced up.

Daniel followed her gaze, saw the camera mounted over the closed door. He breathed out. “That. Was not there yesterday.”

 

 

***

 

Chiana didn’t need her sight to tell her where she was. After all this time, Lo’La smelled the same—something musky that was D’Argo, Rygel’s own particular brand of stench. Stark smelled like dirt and old clothes. Her own smell as familiar as the hair on her head.

But now there was something else, something oily and feral that carried a low hum with it. Scorpius. She would have sworn on her brother’s life that she could hear his heat regulator like it was a heartbeat.

She would never have admitted it but leaving Sikozu with Moya had seemed right—caring enough to be conscientious, but not so attached that her feelings would frell up her judgment.

Chiana’s own judgment was frelled. This was a crazy plan, parking themselves where a wormhole should be, waiting for it to open while Scarran ships roamed the stars. Crichton would have called it—what? Sitting ducks? Instinct told her cut and run. Reason told her tralk, you have no eyes.

Her heart told her this was the only place to be.

“You…you’re sure about this frellnik of a plan.” She rested her hand on D’Argo’s shoulder. Not that they hadn’t gone over it once, twice, three times before climbing into the ship. Not that she hadn’t closed her sightless eyes, saw in her head how it might have laid out: the pod nestled beneath Lo’La, a cavernous hole in Moya’s den where two small females could never fill the void. A seam in space where a wormhole was expected to open, if the calculations were accurate. Things Crichton saw in his head, felt in his bones.

She understood now, understood how knowledge worked without sight, how he could see something invisible with his eyes open, the way she could see with hers closed.

A wormhole, an open door to Earth. An open path to Crichton. Aeryn. Pilot. All she wanted now was to bring them home, even if it meant never getting her eyes back.

“Of course he’s not sure.” Rygel whirred closer to her. “Why would anyone be sure about that naknuck of a plan? Let’s just sit here and wait for a Stryker to blow us out of the sky.”

“We’re invisible, your lowness,” D’Argo said.

“Oh, invisible! Well, of course.”

“Quiet, Dominar,” Scorpius said mildly. “Sikozu?”

The comms beeped and Sikozu’s voice came through. “We’re still on the planet. Moya isn’t convinced this is the best way to go.”

“Well, she shows more sense than we do.” Rygel gave a harrumph.

“It doesn’t matter,” D’Argo said. “Sikozu, if she wants to stay, let her stay. If they come back through some other means…” But he didn’t sound convinced.

Chiana heard Scorpius’ movement, smelled his smell as he drew closer to D’Argo. “What is that?”

D’Argo pushed her back a little. “What. That?”

The first time she’d seen it, she’d been aboard Moya for a short time, she and Rygel arguing over who was in charge, not realizing that no one was in charge, ever, no matter their title.

She’d seen it again when it had chucked a ship at them, when it had taken Zhaan, when it had transported them to Crichton’s homeworld where they were questioned, observed, held at arms’ length like freaks. It meant strife. It meant pain.

She was glad she couldn’t see it now, see the greedy look on Scorpius’ face. They all had to know that they were only pawns —even Sikozu, loyal as she was to him, was just one more piece in the game.

“Yotz! It’s the wormhole. You stupid Luxan, why are we sitting here! Prowlers…?”

“Shut up!” D’Argo said it in a harsh whisper. “They’re passing us right by.”

His voice trailed off. She heard Scorpius take a step back, inhale like he was going to say something then he was quiet. They were all quiet.

“What?” She shook D’Argo. “What is it?”

“Peacekeepers. Through the wormhole. Peacekeepers!”

“They’re no threat to Earth. Consider them insurance…they may even help when the inevitable Scarran invasion begins.”

“Inevitable because you made sure of it,” Rygel said.

“Oh, Dominar. You give me far too much credit. I’m merely taking advantage of an opportunity.”

“They’re frelled. Earth. All of them.” She slumped back against Lo’La’s curved wall like she’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Ka D’Argo, open communications. See if you can get a fix on the pod, on Crichton.” Scorpius’ voice was calm.

She felt D’Argo hesitate, then she heard the flick of a switch. “What do you see? D’Argo?”

“Gone, all gone. They’re all gone.” Stark had been quiet but he was behind her now, hands on her shoulders. “Death.”

“Whose death?” She twisted away from him. “Are they dead?”

“Well, I don’t know. But we should go in. That’s the only way.”

“No. I’m not dragging you through this. Not with the Peacekeepers in the middle of things. It’s enough that we’ve lost them—”

“D’Argo.” She reached out, grabbed his arm. “What else are we gonna do? We said we were gonna go. So…go. We have to at least warn them. Crichton’s planet. It’s something.”

She heard more switches, movement in front of her from the control panel then finally D’Argo sighed.

“Scorpius?” he said.

She felt him move forward, heard a satisfied sigh from Scorpius.

“Kahalen, preserve us,” Stark breathed as Lo’La was buffeted through the wormhole.

 

***

 

 

Daniel had opened his office door, had gotten a few steps out when he was met by a couple of troops. No one had raised weapons but they had patted him down. He’d been disarmed in less time than it had taken him to find the key.

Now klaxons blared and personnel ran by without giving them a second look. Even in his hurry, Daniel tried to minimize the jostling but Aeryn’s hands were gripping the arm rests and her breathing was deep and steady like she was trying to focus.

He’d gotten his wish—sort of. They were in the control room. This whole day had been made up of sort of getting his wish.

Jack glanced at him. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” He turned back to the monitors in front of him, one hand supporting his weight as he leaned against the console, the other gripping the mike.

“Prometheus. Do you read me? Copy!”

Daniel heard garbled communication, then the monitor lit up with Mitchell’s face. Daniel stared at Mitchell, Mitchell stared back then shook his head.

“Sir!”

“Colonel. What’s your status?”

“We’ve tracked ten ships so far, all of the same type.”

“Cruisers?”

“Negative, sir. They look like fighters but not like the ones I engaged earlier.”

“Got a visual?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get it onscreen.” Jack turned to Daniel. “Can you I.D. any of these?”

Daniel glanced up. Dark, with streaks of red on the side, nose pointed like the edge of a knife. “Me? Of course not.”

Aeryn wheeled past him to where Jack stood. “Prowlers.”

“Sir, did you copy?” Mitchell’s voice but no visual; the screens had gone to snow.

“Just a second, Mitchell.” Jack turned to Aeryn. “What the hell?”

“Colonel Mitchell, those are Prowlers. Peacekeeper combat fighters.”

“Mitchell, did you get that?” Jack shook the mike like it would make a difference. “Mitchell!” He pushed away from the console. “Chief, see if you can get me a visual of what’s happening out there. And get Mitchell back.”

“Working on it now, General.”

Jack nodded then grabbed the handlebar of the wheelchair and pushed it into a corner away from the hum of activity

“So were you taking her on a tour or were you two planning to break out?” Jack said.

Daniel put his hand on her shoulder, squeezed it once, hoped that the signal he usually gave Vala to indicate “shut up” would be understood by her doppelgänger. She slapped his hand away but said nothing.

“I was looking for something. Something Vala Mal Doran was carrying with her.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack looked dubious He squatted down, eye to eye with Aeryn. “Prowlers,uh? ‘Peacekeeper combat fighters’? You.” Jack pointed at her. “You’re not…Tell me right now what’s going on.”

“You know what. Wormhole, General. Just like I told you before. Scarrans. Peacekeepers. They’re at war and it appears they’ve decided to fight it here.”

“You told me that your friend was going to fix this if we—You said Crichton would fix this mess,” he said in a harsh whisper. “And now I’ve got him with one of my people on the other side of the country.”

Aeryn didn’t flinch. “It’s not that simple. It’s not—” She snapped her fingers. “Like that. I’ve told you. Our pod might help. We had coordinates and equations--”

“That Colonel Carter might understand and that I can’t access right now.” Jack stood up and slammed his palm on the wall, then glared at her. She glared back.

 _“I_ understand them! And I’m sitting here with this thing on my leg like a shackle.” She slapped at the cast; Daniel watched as her face blanched and she bit her lip.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna help one bit,” he said.

“Why would they come _here_?” Jack said.

She paused, glanced up at Daniel. He shrugged. “It’s up to you,” he said.

“Nothing’s up to anyone but me,” Jack said. He turned back to Aeryn. “What do they want with Earth?”

“Your planet has a plant that the Scarrans eat in order to maintain their intellectual functions. Such as they are.”

“So, what? This is the Golden Corral of intergalactic space?”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Never mind. They’re coming _here_ to replenish a food supply? Why? And don’t tell me _we’re_ the food--”

“We—we destroyed their base and the matriarch plant—”

“Whoa—who’s ‘we’ in this scenario?”

Aeryn sighed, rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“John. The rest of our crew…That’s why we were in the wormhole. Our plan was to close it, keep Earth safe so they wouldn’t attack.”

“Well, you blew it. And now we’ve got a shit load of pissed off aliens coming after us. What about the other ships—Peacekeepers? They’re here for food too?”

“They’re at war with the Scarrans.”

“Great.” He turned to Daniel. “Did you know all this?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly? And you didn’t think it was important enough to include in a debrief?”

“I said mostly, not entirely. This is all new to me, too.”

Jack shook his head head in disgust. “They want something we have—what is it they want?”

“John called it ‘bird of paradise’.” She looked dully at her leg. “’Dime a dozen,’ he said, ‘mom’s garden.’” She aimed her gaze at Jack, narrowed her eyes. “They’re looking for their flowers. The Peacekeepers are looking for the Scarrans. So now you know everything.”

“Crichton’s home. Florida,” Jack said. “And we sent Carter right to it.” He turned to Harriman. “Chief, get me all the places where bird of paradise might grow—lots of them.”

“Sir?”

“Yeah, you heard right.” He turned back to Daniel. “If we can focus our efforts in specific locations, that could give us some advantage. How big are these fleets?”

She shook her head. “The Scarrans outnumber the Peacekeepers significantly. Or so we’ve heard. Thousands? Tens of thousands?”

“You’re a military officer. You don’t _know_?”

“I _was_ a military officer. Even at that, I wasn’t privy to strategy. I’ll say it again. Our pod.”

“Nope. That’s not happening.” He gave her one more look; Daniel knew it well. It said _useless_.

“Sir? I’ve got a hail.”

“Prometheus? Carter?”

“No, sir. Something else.”

“Something else. That’s just great. Well, open the mike for crying out loud.”

The voice that came over the speaker was an unfamiliar low rumble, the same syllables over and over. He understood every one.

He glanced at Aeryn. Her mouth was slack, eyes fixed on the speaker like she couldn’t believe what was coming out of it, then she maneuvered past him to the console. Daniel followed her.

“General, I recognize that voice,” she said.

“General?” Harriman looked from Jack then to Aeryn then to Daniel.

Jack turned to Aeryn. “Well?”

She shook her head, tight-lipped.

“You’re not gonna help your cause,” Jack said.

“Our crew. They’re looking for us but…I’m not sure how…”

“This isn’t a trick, is it?” Jack said.

“No. If you let me talk to them, I can prove it.”

“Chief, can you get them onscreen?”

“Negative, sir.”

“How the hell are we getting them right now?”

Aeryn supported herself against the console. “They’re here. They found us. They found us. Open the channel.”

“Do it,” O’Neill said.

Harriman reached over the console, did as he was told.

“D’Argo? It’s Aeryn.”

In the background, there was a commotion, a mix of sounds that sounded like English in his ears.

“What are they saying?” O’Neill said. “Where are they and how did they manage to evade the ships coming through?”

“D’Argo, we need to use English. These people—they’re not what we knew. They have weapons. Ships.”

The voice on the other end was quiet then the woman’s voice came through the speaker. “Aeryn. Aeryn…Where’s John? Pilot?”

“We…we’ll talk about it later. Right now, I need all of you to listen to me. I’m here in their command center.” On her face, Daniel saw hope.

Then there was a male voice, deep, antagonistic enough that Jack pulled away from the console just a little. “We’re not taking orders from anyone.”

Jack took the mike from her grasp. “If you speak English, now is the time to use it. This is General Jack O’Neill, United States Air Force. Give us your position and we’ll guide you down. Don’t give it to us, and we’ll blow you out of the sky.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Do you copy?” Jack said.

“This is Captain Ka D’Argo. We don’t want any trouble. Give us John, Aeryn and Pilot, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Who am I talking to?” Jack turned to Aeryn. “’Captain’? Who is that and how the hell did they get here?”

Aeryn sighed. “D’Argo, he means it.”

“So do I. General, we have a commander of the Peacekeeper armada on our ship. I’m sure, given the word, he’d gladly turn his troops on you. We know they’ve come through. We saw it. Aeryn, we’ll find you.”

The connection went dead. Jack turned to her, fire in his eyes. “You have some explaining to do.”

***

 

“Well, Captain.” Scorpius patted him on the back, but even the movement felt mocking. “Well done. What do you think they’ll do first? Kill John, or kill Aeryn?”

“Neither.” D’Argo scanned the the console. “So shut up. I think I have something.”

Pure luck, it seemed, had brought him to Aeryn. The flare on the console was something else entirely, a pure call, the pod’s beacon signaling to them. Aeryn had to be nearby.

“What is that?” Stark reached out a tentative finger which D’Argo quickly slapped away.

“Don’t touch anything!”

“What’re we gonna do--D’Argo?” Chiana shook his shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“There.” Stark pointed, didn’t touch.

Chiana, rightfully so, hit him on the back of the head. “That doesn’t answer my question and I can’t see a frelling thing, you fekkik.”

“Why must I be the only rational one?” Rygel slid toward the console, wedging himself between Chiana and Stark. “What that moron is pointing at is the beacon. The pod’s beacon.”

“And nothing else.” D’Argo studied the array. No ships, no alarms…nothing that would indicate their presence had been detected.

The land beneath them looked barren, reminding him of the Gammak base, misleadlingly quiet and waiting for them to walk into a trap.

Chiana rested her chin against D’Argo’s shoulder. “They’re here, D’Argo. They’re here.”

“You certainly have your work cut out for you,” Scorpius said. “Their general sounded less than impressed with your ship’s firepower. It appears this planet is better defended than you thought.”

“Don’t trouble yourself over it.” Yet, D’Argo knew that Scorpius was right.

They’d followed the Peacekeeper ships through the wormhole, surprised that the ships had made it through the other side, intact and flying. Scorpius had borne a self satisfied look, further making D’Argo question the wisdom of bringing him along. The last thing he’d remembered were pilots turning to goo, as John had pointed out. What other things had the half-breed neglected to share with them?

“You’ve not been on this planet of nak-nuks,” Rygel said. “Xenophobic morons, all of them. They’d kill each other before they thought to attack us.”

“I’m not concerned about it.” D’Argo was transfixed on the console flare. It was the pod, no doubt. “They haven’t found us yet.” There was no other way, no vote to be taken, nor counsel to be considered.

“If they won’t work with us, we won’t wait. We’re going to find them ourselves.”

 

***

 

 

 

General O’Neill had decided their conversation was best held in private. Her only objection had been the idea of moving from one place to another.

D’Argo, Chiana….they’d made it. Relief was enough to make her forget the throbbing in her leg, John’s absence, even the baby—they’d made it through.

Daniel hefted her out of the wheelchair while O’Neill commandeered the chair to get them up the stairs again-- _Didn’t this frelling place have level risers?_ —then set her gingerly back in it with an apologetic smile.

She closed her eyes, felt the smooth movement beneath her. For a microt, she could hear Pilot in Moya’s den, feel the cool, fresh atmosphere where she’d often sought refuge at the console’s base, his claws dancing over the controls that kept them alive.

 _Home_ …then the ugly reality reared its head. Pilot was dead. They were lost on an Earth that didn’t exist in their reality. One military force stood behind her, Earth based and apparently powerful, but not as powerful as the military forces pursuing them through the open wormhole.

She and John had not only brought the threat right to Earth, they’d tangled themselves inside it.

O’Neill stopped at a doorway not far from the stairwell then led them inside.

“You need to get your hands on that device,” she whispered to Daniel. The device, whatever it was, could free her from this leg, free her to pilot a ship.

“Window of opportunity…we may have missed it with your friends here.” He pushed her to the table, then took a seat beside her.

O’Neill folded his hands on the table. Leaned in toward her, looking like he expected a flinch. She didn’t give him the satisfaction.

“No more games. Here’s how this will go, _Officer_. You’re going to contact your friends. You’re going to tell them that any act of war will result in them being blown out of the sky. I wasn’t joking about that.”

It was her turn to lean in. “Have you ever been willing to die, General?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Aeryn.” Daniel rested his hand on her arm but she pulled away.

“Die. Peackeepers, Scarrans. They’re determined to extinguish each other but they’re not above a distraction like Earth. I don’t care how many ships you have like Colonel Mitchell’s. They will exterminate you if you’re lucky, enslave you if you’re not. How many ships do you have? How many fighters?”

Jack O’Neill leaned back in his chair. “Who’s on that ship? We’re on the same side. Neither of us wants to see Earth go to hell in a hand-basket.”

“Our family.”

“And the Peacekeeper commander?”

“Scorpius. He is neither friend, nor family. Questionably an ally.”

“Questionably.” O’Neill didn’t sound impressed. “Why is he traveling with your ‘family’?”

“He wants—” All he wanted was John. Wormholes. Scorpius knew wormholes, better than she did, not as well as John but maybe just well enough…

Did he really want an alliance? She had questioned John’s wisdom in sending Sikozu and Scorpius back to the command carrier, had questioned the wisdom of leaving Earth without a powerful ally and with a focused enemy. Yet she had gotten on the pod with Pilot and John, faith versus strategy, love versus fear. A place where the worst would have been getting stranded on Earth with John Crichton.

_Then we’ll have to do the best we can…_

She’d never considered this world, this situation in any realm of possibilities.

She shuddered, ran her hands over her upper arms. Daniel rested his hand on her shoulder; she glanced up, saw John’s face, but it wore Daniel’s cautious smile of encouragement.

Sick, tired, lost, pregnant…how many more ways could she see her situation? She considered General O’Neill, the stubborn set of his jaw, the threat in his eyes. A man determined to have his way. Why should she be any less determined?

She shook Daniel’s hand off, drew herself up. Strategy, not faith. Not this time.

“Scorpius wants to defeat the Scarran force that’s coming through the open wormhole. In that regard, he could be your ally. If you cooperate with my friends.”

“Huh…cooperate with a group of people I’ve never met, on your say so.” He turned to Daniel. “What would you do, Daniel?”

John Crichton’s body shrugged as the man inside it pursed his lips in thought. “I think you’re going to have to trust her, Jack.”

“You’re going to have to do more than that.” She’d been in worse places, had fought more difficult battles… “You’re going to have to give me what I want.”

O’Neill folded his arms over his chest, looked her over with some degree of pity in his eyes. She didn’t care. If his pity got her what she wanted, she’d take it. “First Crichton, now you. You guys seem to think you have something I want.”

“Jack—”

“Shut up, Daniel. You know, Aeryn, I could just have you locked up. Throw away the key. That leg of yours? It can heal or not. Wouldn’t make any difference to me.”

“Jack!”

Aeryn nodded. “Mm-hmm. You could.”

She kept herself sitting ramrod straight, stared hard at him. Saw an old man bluffing his way. There was worry behind his eyes, an invading force he didn’t know, a wormhole he’d never seen, communications lost with the key members of his team.

She was an alien to him, the wild card, as Daniel had pointed out. At full strength, she could have taken him down in the blink of an eye. She didn’t have that luxury today.

“That ship of yours.” She pointed upwards. “What do you call it? Prometheus? I was raised on a ship twice its size. Both fleets coming your way could cripple your defenses before you even knew how to stop them. I know what you want. Us, our comrades, and our enemies out of your existence before you and this planet are nothing more than a charred husk and you’ve been enslaved.”

“We’ve fought big bad wolves before—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “Certainly. And now you can fight two of them at the same time.”

“Or they can just blow each other to hell.”

She locked the wheels, braced her hands on the table, forced herself to her feet. Willed herself not to pass out as she felt the blood drain from her face. “If you’re that confident, then lock me up. Make that wager with yourself and live with the consequences. Or die.” She shrugged. “Either way. Giving me what I want seems like a small price to pay.”

He snorted. “For a woman who looks like she’s seen better days, you’ve got stones. I’ll grant you that. So what’s this small price I’d have to pay. What do you want, Aeryn Sun?”

“My health. John. Our pod.”

O’Neill snapped his fingers. “Just like that, in the middle of this conflict.”

“You said it, General. We are on the same side. Any information I have can only be helpful to you. You need to decide if that’s worth placing your trust in me.”

O’Neill studied her. “I’ll get you to medical—”

She held up her hand. “No. I want John back here, everyone where they’re supposed to be.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. That’s not possible right now. I’m willing to give you two out of three. That’s it.”

“It’s a start,” Daniel said. “Aeryn. It’s a start.”

“It’s the only ‘deal’ you’re going to get from me.” O’Neill stood up and walked to a phone on the wall, spoke into it softly enough that she couldn’t make out a word. Then he turned back to them. “Daniel? A word?” He turned to her. “Don’t get any ideas.” He looked her up and down. “Not that you look like you’ll be doing much.”

O’Neill started for the door without turning around.

“It’s going to be okay,” Daniel whispered in her ear. “I promise. And I won’t let you down.”

She turned to him, saw the earnestness in his eyes; remembered feeling almost as helpless, more times than she wanted to admit…

_No. No, you hold on. I won’t let it happen._

_Baby’s fine…everything’s gonna be okay…_

_How many times have we save each other’s lives…_

She reached out, ruffled his hair without thinking. He pulled away, looking embarrassed and she drew her hand back.

“I know,” she said.

 

 

***

 

Jack turned to the door, locked it, ignoring the alarm on Daniel’s face. That would give her some time to consider her limited options.

“Wheelchair or not, I’m not taking any chances. How much do you know about her, about this whole story of hers?”

Daniel shrugged. “Well, we know they’re not from anywhere we’re familiar with. We have their pod but you didn’t give me enough time with that. And we know that something else is attacking us.”

“And they’re not the advance team, are they.” Jack shook his head and started toward the gate room.. “Because they’re a damned sorry sight.”

“For what it’s worth, I think trusting her is the right thing to do. You can send both of us to Area 51. It’s a start--”

“There’s a thought.” He wasn’t quite ready to play his hand but he was close. He had no doubt that he was talking to Daniel Jackson; the demeanor, the speech patterns…that was Daniel Jackson.

No, his doubts centered on a whole bunch of other things.

“Jack, before we go, I need to see what Vala brought with her when we came through the Stargate.”

“Huh…really. You and Mal Doran are on a first name basis?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What, exactly, are you looking for, Daniel?”

Daniel pursed his lips, bent his head in thought, hands deep in his pockets. “A healing device.” He looked up. “The Goa’uld healing device.”

“The Goa’uld healing device. Well, why didn’t you just say so? We have a treasure trove of Goa’uld goodies. But you’d know that, wouldn’t you? You’re the one who cataloged them, and studied them. They’re all safely filed away. You know that, right? Why would Mal Doran figure into that?”

He stopped, waited. Daniel looked blankly at him. “Jack?”

“You and Mal Doran. You and Aeryn Sun. You, in this body.” He looked down the corridor, nodded his head toward the two MPs then lowered his voice a few notches. “I’ve got a few questions, and I don’t want any BS.”

Daniel took a deep breath, reached for glasses that weren’t there, looked perturbed when he realized they weren’t there, then looked at Jack. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Probably not. But given all the crap going on, I’m betting it won’t be the worst thing I’ll hear all day.”

 

***

 

Jack O’Neill was right. It wasn’t the worst thing he’d heard all day. First there’d been the attack on SG1, his team coming in hot. Vala Mal Doran bundled between them, not looking like she was anyone’s prisoner. Daniel Jackson an unconscious lump at the foot of the ramp.

There was the wormhole, spitting out ships the way a a kid would spit out watermelon seeds on a hot afternoon.

Crichtons one and two…After reacquainting himself with Jack Crichton, he’d had to grudgingly admit that the man who called himself Crichton’s son sure seemed to bear the old man’s hard-headedness. He could appreciate that. Hell, he had that in spades, but all Crichtons one and two had done was give him a couple more headaches than he already had.

There was the President, and aliens and the Prometheus. F15s scrambling, F302s circling the wormhole with the intent of engaging any any hostile ships…and the possibility of an all out war with forces they didn’t understand.

He sat behind his desk, hands folded, as the man in John Crichton’s body explained why things weren’t as they should be.

Jack O’Neill had had enough.

“Wait.” He held up a hand. “So, what you’re saying, _Daniel_ , is that _you_ don’t belong here. In my world. What if I don’t believe a word you said?” He stood up, leaned forward but knew that he believed every word of it.

Why not? He’d lived through Ancients and parasitic gods who infested people’s bodies, had taken wormhole rides all over the universe and knew a thing or two about time loops and multi-verses.

“Tell me this. If I get rid of you guys, will all this shit stop? You and yours can take Crichton and Aeryn Sun and all their alien buddies with you?”

Daniel stood up, paced a few steps then stopped. “Well…it’s not that easy. First off, Crichton and Aeryn and their ‘alien buddies’ aren’t part of my reality. None of that exists—not Jack Crichton retired astronaut, or John Crichton, dead sixteen year old. None of it.”

Jack ran his hands through his hair, feeling like he was trying to put pieces back together. “How the hell did this happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“So, if you don’t know, how the hell do you propose to fix it? Can’t you just what…go back in time?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. It’s not a matter of going back in time. It’s just another time. An alternate reality. Though…” He tapped his lip in thought. “I suppose if we went back to before the time General Landry sent us on our mission…”

Jack held out his hand. “Landry as in President Landry?”

Daniel glanced at the president’s picture on the wall of the office, blinked twice in disbelief. “Yes…? In my reality, he took your place as our commanding officer. Mitchell is our team leader. Vala…” He looked down at his hands.

“Vala…?”

“Vala is part of our team. She and I found that communication device we used to get us into this current situation.” He pointed at himself. “Only it didn’t work quite as well with us. It wasn’t a ‘body switch’ per se.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he contemplated that. “And you couldn’t tell me that sooner? How exactly did it work out?”

Daniel looked down, thoughtful. “Our bodies were unconscious, reacting to the stress from the ‘other side’. The people on the other end were…” He paused, looked like he was contemplating the consequences then looked up again. “I think they were killed. Burned alive by some religious zealots who are bent on taking over the universe. That’s the fight we’re waging, in our reality.” He shook his head. “Anyway. Extreme stress broke the connection.”

“Killed. So you’re saying _your_ Vala Mal Doran is probably…” He had just met the woman—or this incarnation of her anyway, no love lost but still…

“She’s not _my_ Vala and, no.” Daniel looked at him harshly. “No, I’m not saying that at all. Sam would have told us. I …I would know…”

“We haven’t been able to reach Sam.”

“No.” He seemed emphatic on that point. “I think the connection was broken when Dr. Lam administered whatever pain medications she did. I think Aeryn’s body chemistry couldn’t handle whatever it was and had a bad reaction.”

Jack pushed away from his desk. “So maybe we concoct something to inject in you? Do you think that might do it?” He grabbed Daniel by the arm and pulled him along to the control room. “Let’s see if Walter has made any inroads on contact with Prometheus. Or Carter. Or Aeryn Sun’s buddies. Or those other aliens…”

Daniel matched him stride for stride and didn’t try to shake him off. “I’m not making this up, Jack. Why would I?”

“Not saying you are, and I’m not saying you’re not.” They went down the stairs. “Chief, any luck with the Prometheus?”

“No, sir.”

O’Neill nodded. “I want you to trace the communications from that ship we made contact with. You know…”

“The aliens, sir. Yes, sir.” Walter Harriman turned back to the console, hands poised over the controls when Jack heard the familiar clunk of the of gate symbols locking into place.

“Sir?” Harriman’s expression balanced somewhere between alarm and confusion then he turned back to the console. “Incoming! It’s SG1’s IDC and they’re coming in hot!”

Daniel glanced at Jack then at the gate, John Crichton’s face reflecting Daniel’s smug “I told you so” look Jack knew all too well.

Jack glanced down to the gate room, saw the security team taking position as the links fell into place. “Chief? Prometheus? Carter? Aliens?”

The last question Jack had wanted to pose was about to answer itself as the final link in the chain slid into place. The assembled infantry took defensive positions, P90s drawn in unison as the iris flared open.

Down below, the four members of SG1 came through the gate. Between Mitchell and Teal’c was a scantily clad, shackled, dark haired woman trying to wrestle free from their grip. Daniel and Carter followed behind her, carrying what looked for all practical purposes to be a travel trunk.

The voice through the speaker was loud and clear; she sounded more indignant than angry. “Get your hands off me!” The voice was pure Goa’uld.

“Shut up.” Mitchell squeezed her arm; she tried to twist away, a grimace of pain on her face. They came to rest at the foot of the ramp, Mitchell giving her a shove that knocked her to her knees.

“Get her locked up,” he said to the assembled infantry. “And get those damned guns out of my face.” He glanced up, caught Jack’s eye and gave the thumbs up. “Lucky for us, we found _this_.” He toed her with his boot. “Vala Mal Doran, doing her best impression of an Egyptian queen and trying to rook as many villagers as she could.”

“Sir?” Harriman looked at him, his eyes revealing three words: _what the hell?_

“What can I say, Walter. It’s a crazy world.” He took the mike in his hand again. “Lock them up.”

Four faces turned up in surprise at him. Mal Doran rolled onto her back and laughed.

“General O’Neill, sir? With all due respect, what the hell is going on? Who is that guy?” Mitchell’s hand moved toward his Beretta while the other pointed at John Crichton peering down at him from behind the glass.

“That’s what we’re working out, Colonel,” Jack said.

“General!” Carter said.

Jack shook his head. “Get them all locked up. Now. Mitchell, I suggest you go quietly. Carter, turn that stuff over to the Sergeant so we can make sure none of it blows up.”

“It’s not a bomb, Jack.” Daniel eyed him with annoyance.

“Sergeant Siler?” Jack said.

Mitchell stared up at him, eyes narrowed, mouth in a thin line. Carter gave a nod. They relinquished their weapons and gear, put their hands behind their heads and allowed themselves to be cuffed. Mal Doran was brought to her feet; she glanced up at him and laughed again before she was pulled along behind SG1.

Jack waited until the room cleared, then turned to Harriman who sat staring at him and Daniel who, as far as Harriman knew, was John Crichton.

“What?” Jack said.

“Nothing, Sir. I’ll see if I can contact the Prometheus as you requested, sir.”

Jack patted him on the shoulder. “Good idea.”

“General, you might want to know that Woolsey’s been asking for you.”

Jack sighed. “Oh, right. Kind of forgot about that guy. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.”

“We’ve lost all contact with that other alien ship.”

“And the wormhole?”

“Holding open and steady. I think the other ships are jamming our communications. We’ve detected the presence of smaller ships. Defenses are in place.”

Jack tapped his fingers on the console. “Let me know as soon as you reach the Prometheus. Or anyone for that matter.” He turned to Daniel who continued to stare down at the now empty gateroom.

“Well?” he asked.

Daniel turned to him. “What?”

“Let’s see how far this train has gone off track, shall we?” He nodded his head toward the stairwell.

“Really,” Daniel said. “What about Aeryn?”

“She’s not going anywhere right now. You do want this whole thing answered, don’t you?”

Daniel sighed. “Right.”

Jack took one last look at the closed gate and the empty gateroom then turned and started toward the brig.

 

***

 

The base was secure. Overhead, he knew stealth fighters, US Air Force and its allies, were flying worldwide, tracking and attacking as needed. They’d already engaged fighters not too far from where Samantha Carter had taken her charges. And now it made sense why—flowers. If someone had told him that Earth’s fate rested on someone’s garden, he would have thought they were off their rocker.

SG1 should have been on the forefront of that except they were scattered and incommunicado…and in his brig.

O’Neill walked down the corridor to the cells. Daniel kept pace beside him and, wisely, had decided to stop explaining.

They came to the first door. The guard acknowledged Jack with a salute then unlocked the door. Sam sat at a table, looking pissed when she glanced up at him. Her expression shifted to relief when she saw what appeared to be Cameron Mitchell beside him.

“Cam. Holy Hannah, maybe we can get this all squared away—”

Jack held up his hand. “Not so fast, Carter.” He jerked his thumb toward the man beside him. “This guy has a few things to say.”

Daniel fidgeted, hung his head a moment in thought, moved toward the door then back, hands jammed in his pockets.

“Cam…? Sir, if you’ll excuse the question. What the hell is this all about?”

Jack slid into the seat across from her. “Tell me about the mission.”

“That seems to be the least of our worries right now—”

“Humor me.”

“P8X-412 with whom we’d just made contact. No sign of Lucian Alliance. Poor planet, poor farming capabilities, near empty Nacquadah mines. Just so happens, we found out why.”

“Vala Mal Doran.”

“Appears she’s very creative, but not a Goa’uld. She claims to have once been Qetesh, and she sure looks like what we’ve heard of her, but…we haven’t run any tests yet. The Lucien Alliance has a bounty on her head, by the way. Big money, from what she says.”

“And you believe that?”

“Sir, is this really about the mission?” She nodded her head toward Daniel. “Because while that guy looks like Cam, is dressed like Cam…that is not Cameron Mitchell.”

Jack slapped his palm lightly on the table. “Carter, I could hug you right now. Trust you to figure that out.”

Carter smiled. “It doesn’t take much, sir. Look at the way he’s standing…” She blinked once. Twice, as if she was trying to erase the previous image “He’s standing like—”

“Daniel Jackson,” Daniel said. “Daniel Jackson inside the body of a man named John Crichton.”

Carter looked unperturbed. “Daniel. You came with me through the gate…” She turned to Jack. “I mean, I get the body swap. You and Teal’c? Not to mention that communication device we just found—”

Daniel turned and walked back toward the table. “Jack? You knew what that thing was?”

O’Neill shrugged. “Just played a hunch. We really hadn’t used it yet. Much.”

“That…that’s…” Daniel sputtered but words had stopped coming out. Jack held out his hand to silence him.

“I’ve been around the block a few times.” He turned back to Sam. “So, in the meantime, Carter. How do quantum physics and multi-verses sound to you?”

“Right. Right…” She paused. “So you’re Daniel Jackson from an alternate reality.” She turned to O’Neill. “That hasn’t happened in awhile.”

“No, no, no.” Daniel shook his head. Or Crichton’s head, Jack supposed. “I don’t want to know when, where or how. I just want to know why now. And I guess, how, as in how do we get back.”

“What else can you tell me, Carter?” Jack said. “Before all the cards are on the table.”

She leaned forward. “What else do you want to know?”

“What did you have for dinner last night?”

“General?”

“Dinner, Samantha.”

“A steak that I told you was slightly overcooked. Beer. A salad that you said looked like rabbit food…A pep talk and an episode of the Simpsons to help ease your passage to retirement. All that fishing. It could kill a man.”

He could have kissed her at that moment, but there were security cameras and guards everywhere.

Daniel spoiled the moment. “Wait, what? You’re retiring? Jack?”

“Yeah. And you spoiled what was supposed to be a nice, smooth transition. You’re looking at the new leader of SGC, Lieutenant Colonel Dr. Samantha Carter. You’d know that if you were here yesterday.”

“Sir, the name Crichton…” Sam drummed her fingers on the table for a moment. “Any relevance to the retired astronaut?”

Daniel snorted. “Relevance? Yes. I’m…he…this…” He waved his hands over his body. “This is John Robert Crichton Jr.”

Finally, that got Sam’s attention. She pushed away from the table and stood up. “Isn’t he…? Dead…?”

“Not anymore.” Jack stood up, went around to Sam’s side of the table then guided her to the door, nodding to Daniel as he went. “There’s more. But first, I’d like to pay a visit to your prisoner.”

“What about the others, Sir?”

“We can clue them in later. Right now, I’ve got a Mitchell and Teal’c on the Prometheus, your other self off in Florida with John Crichton, Vala Mal Doran and—oh, hell.” He shook his head as Carter’s eyes widened. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Point is, I don’t need more of you wandering around here. Prince Charming here is more than enough.”

“Vala Mal Doran?” Carter said. “I’m sorry sir, but Vala Mal Doran?”

“I want you to help me talk to Qetesh or Mal Doran or whoever the hell she is.”

“I think I should be there too, Jack.”

Jack turned and eyed Daniel skeptically. “No. Get back to the conference room and keep your other friend company.”

“Jack—”

“I said no. Don’t make me get obstinate about it.” He turned to Sam. “Let’s see if your prisoner is the Goa’uld she claims to be.

 

***

 

They found Qetesh sitting in the chair, handcuffed to the table in front of her. When she saw them come through the door, she leveled a glare at them that could have taken paint off the wall.

On the table, just out of reach, were several devices the team had taken off her, just as Jack had requested, including the one that he was most interested in.

“Uncuff me at once!”

Jack glanced at Sam. She shook her head.

“Shut that thing off.” Sam strode to where the woman sat, touched something on the front of her dress then stepped back. The woman’s shoulders slumped and she shook her hair back.

“What was that?” Jack sat down opposite Mal Doran.

“Voice modulator,” Vala said. “What? You don’t expect me to wear this—“ She glanced at the gown she wore—“Without full effect.”

“We had to listen to it the entire way back to the gate,” Sam said. “We actually had to listen to a lot of things on the way back through the gate.”

Qetesh smiled. “Mr---“ She squinted at his name tag “O’Neill—“

“ _General_ O’Neill.” Sam corrected her.

“Ah, yes. General. I should have known from the distinguished grey hair and the commanding way with which you carry yourself. I have to commend you on the luscious looking team you sent to retrieve me. All of them, I might add.” She winked at Carter who recoiled a little.

Jack shrugged. “Well, she is the goddess of –“

Carter held out her hand. “Don’t encourage her, sir.” She turned to the woman in front of her. “You and I both know you’re not the goddess of anything, Mal Doran.”

“I’d say ‘goddess of bullshit’,” O’Neill interjected. Sam turned to him, gave him a look then turned her attention back to Mal Doran.

“I beg to differ, General,” Vala said. “There’s all this.” She shook her hair back one more time, pointing her chest in his direction at just the right angle so he could see a curve of breast.

Yep, he could see where that dress, that voice and that general attitude could get her more or less what she wanted.

“And thank you for bringing back all my treasures.” She reached for the items on the table, fingers grasping but they were all outside her reach.

Jack turned toward Sam and nodded. She acknowledged him and picked up the Goa’uld healing device, then held it out in front of Vala.

“You know what this is, right? What it does?”

Vala shrugged. “It makes a lovely conversation piece.”

“Let’s not drag this on,” Jack said. “We can have you moved to Area 51 and let you rot—“ Her eyebrows shot up in alarm and he continued. “Yeah, our reputation does precede itself. So there’s Area 51 or there’s here. We have much better food. It’s really up to you.”

Mal Doran’s shoulders sagged a little. “It’s like this, General. There’s a bounty on my head, men after me willing to kill me for many things. Many,” she emphasized. “If you can guarantee my safety, I’m willing to do what I can to assist you.”

“Your safety.” Sam looked unconvinced. “In exchange for nothing.”

She rolled her eyes. “You obviously want something out of me. And it has to do with healing someone. So obviously you believed me when I told you I am Qetesh.”

“No.” Carter examined the device. “You dress like her. And you’re certainly…uh…”

“A minx?” Jack offered. “An A+ sexual harassment offender?”

Vala smiled widely, clearly taken with herself. “General. Now, there, Colonel. Your General O’Neill has just proven why he’s in charge and you’re not. He sees things as they are. And apparently likes what he sees.”

Jack nodded toward the items on the table. “Carter?”

Carter grabbed one of Mal Doran’s thin wrists, bringing a grimace and an “ow!” from her. She slid the healing device under Mal Doran’s palm then pressed her hand over Mal Doran’s. The contact and response was immediate as the red glow illuminated her hand.

“I guess you weren’t kidding about the Qetesh part.” He leaned in, his face just inches from hers. “Gimme the stink eye. Come on. That little glowy thing you guys like to do.”

“Oh, please.” She craned her neck away from him, averted her gaze.

“Uh huh.” He turned to Carter. “A has been.” He turned back to Mal Doran. “Your symbiote’s gone, isn’t it.”

“That’s all you’re getting from me until I have some guarantee of safety.”

Carter pulled the device from Vala’s hands then stepped back toward Jack. “You don’t have any leverage here, Mal Doran.”

“We could just run a whole bunch of tests, you know. Is the symbiote in there hiding? We might even have to crack you open to find out.”

“You…you wouldn’t. That’s torture. And you seem like honorable people.”

“And you would know what that looks like.” Jack crossed his arms, stretched out like he had all day.

Mal Doran sighed. “Yes. Honorable people are the easiest marks.”

Jack stood up. “Carter, I think she just called us ‘easy’.”

“That’s not what I meant! General, I beseech you. Lots of money, lots of guns. Grant me asylum.”

“I don’t know, Sir.” Carter narrowed her eyes at Mal Doran. “We’ll see you later.”

“Maybe.” He gave Mal Doran one last glance as he and Carter got to the door. She was looking a lot less like a goddess and a lot more like someone who was worried about spending the rest of her life in solitary confinement.

A small part of him felt a tug of pity then he closed the door behind him and locked it.

 

***

 

 

Carter glanced up at the strobes in the hallway. “Why the alarms? Wasn’t that just for us?

“I wish I could say yes.” He started toward the conference room, Carter keeping pace with him.

Carter nodded. “You know, we should run further tests to make sure her symbiote was removed. There were other ways to check her story.”

“Yeah, but none of them would have served any purpose for me. You know, your other self vouched for her. Or her other self, I guess.”

“Now, that might be the hardest part for me to believe.”

O’Neill chuckled. “Yeah, I had my doubts as well but, so far, so good. I guess I trust your judgment in any reality, Carter.”

They came to a stop in front of the elevator. She threaded her arm through the crook of his and leaned into him. “That’s surprisingly sweet, Jack.” Then she pulled away. “But I don’t see where all that makes this Vala Mal Doran worth trusting.” She shook her head. “She decimated that planet, destroyed their mines…She’s ticked off the Lucien Alliance…”

“OK, so maybe she does belong at Area 51. Or she’s gonna rob us blind. But, either way, she’s going to help us with a problem. We can decide what to do with her after that.”

He opened the door. It looked like his conversation with Aeryn Sun had sapped the last of her strength—she was pale, sick looking. Daniel sat with his chair facing her, elbows on his knees as he spoke to her in a low voice.

Daniel pushed the chair back when O’Neill closed the door, then stood up.

Aeryn gripped the arms of the chair. “Colonel Carter.” Her voice held some measure of relief. “You’re back. John…where is he? Did he see his parents? Did you bring them all back?”

Carter stood staring at Aeryn, her mouth slightly open but speechless. Then she turned to Jack. “That’s not…but she’s…” Carter jerked her thumb toward the door. “…locked up…”

Jack shook his head. “Carter. Sit down. This is gonna take awhile.”

 

 

***

 

“So that’s it?” Samantha Carter leaned against the conference room table, arms crossed over her chest. “Wormholes, pods, wrong turns.” She glanced at Daniel. “A notebook…Did I miss anything?”

Aeryn’s mouth was dry in spite of the water Daniel had provided. Glass after glass hadn’t done much to quench her thirst. The lights were too bright in her eyes. Her brain felt like it was wrapped in a blanket, thoughts smothered under a layer of cloth.

The truth was, she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to push past her injuries, how much longer she’d be able to keep herself upright. She was long past trying to appear formidable.

Daniel stood behind her, one hand on the back of her chair, steadying it. He’d touched her shoulder a few times like he was trying to remind her not to fall. At one point, she’d reached out and laid her hand over his before remembering that he wasn’t John.

“These Peacekeepers,” Carter said. “You really think they’ll ally with us.”

“Scorpius proposed it before we even came through the wormhole.” She felt like she was pulling the words from her throat. Was the information too much? Did it matter at this point? Frelled…they were frelled either way. If there was any consistency in these universes, Carter would have to be trusted.

She swayed in the chair, the seat of which seemed to have shortened. Like the world beneath her was shifting and threatening to dump her out.

“Officer Sun?” Carter moved from the table to Aeryn, and squatted down. Fingers snapped in front of Aeryn’s face; she opened her eyes. “Officer Sun!”

“I need to get to our pod. The readings…” She closed her eyes, surrendering herself to memory.

_John, caught between a grave and the woman she’d met: Leslie Crichton._

_She’s staring at Velorek as he’s dragged from her quarters. Betrayal was simple when there was only one thing you wanted. When there was only one thing to want._

_“We do nothing for love…” but she knew that wasn’t true anymore. Everything she was at this moment was for love—John, her child, her friends—her family._

_We do everything for love. She was proof of it._

“Officer Sun?” Carter touched her on the arm, still face to face with her. “We need to get you to the infirmary.”

“No.” Aeryn grabbed her arm. “No. Just…Colonel Carter, I need to get to Area 51. The pod—”

Carter looked to General O’Neill. Aeryn followed her gaze, saw the man nod then reach for a phone.

“Sergeant, bring her in.” He was starting to look more worried than annoyed. If she looked as bad as she felt…all her energy was directed toward staying upright in her chair.

She couldn’t see the calculations, couldn’t understand them. They were scribbles in a notebook, symbols on a chart, motions under Pilot’s claws. Yet, they felt like something she _should_ know. If she could get her hands on them, controls under her fingertips.

The door opened with a rush of voices. One, in particular, caught her attention. She turned her head and saw another version of herself —she didn’t get her hopes up that John would be soon behind. This woman was dressed in some sort of costume.

The woman glared at all of them while she struggled between the men who guarded her, five in all. A couple of them looked from her to the woman then to O’Neill, whose expression didn’t invite any questioning.

“Sergeant, you can uncuff her.”

“Sir.”

O’Neill nodded. “The device, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.” He stepped toward O’Neill, holding a small pouch which he then handed to O’Neill. The general motioned the guards to him with a nod of his head.

The woman craned her neck toward Aeryn. “General, is this some sort of joke? Mitchell…?”

“The only joke in here is that get up you’re wearing.” He held the device up between them, eying it like a jewel. “Now, the way I see it, Mal Doran, I have something you want. Am I right, Carter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You bet I am. Now let’s see what you can do with this little gizmo to prove that you have anything to offer.”

O’Neill palmed the device then reached out with his other hand and grabbed Mal Doran’s wrist, opened her closed fist and laid the device in it. Aeryn heard a hum, then saw a glow. Mal Doran shook her hair back then turned to Aeryn.

“My guess is that you want me to heal…” She paused, met Aeryn’s gaze. Aeryn was too tired to fight, too tired to question.

“My frelling leg, for starters,” Aeryn finished for her. Daniel had his hand on her shoulder, the other hand guiding the chair toward O’Neill and Mal Doran. The General gave Mal Doran a slight push. The device looped over one finger, and sat firmly in her palm.

“And if it works?” Mal Doran said.

“We’ll talk turkey. Do it.”

“It’s gonna be OK,” Daniel said, squeezing Aeryn’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Gods, I hope so,” Mal Doran said. “But I think we should take that thing off her leg first.”

“Jack…” Daniel began.

“We gotta start somewhere. Sergeant. You have a knife?”

“No, sir.”

“Seriously, Jack? You’re going to hurt her.”

“Just get it done,” Aeryn said dully.

“I got it.” Carter stepped forward, then leaned down and pulled a knife from her boot. O’Neill raised his eyebrows. She shrugged then knelt down in front of Aeryn. “I’m really sorry. This is gonna hurt.”

It all hurt. Everything in this world so far had been pain and loss.

Would this always be Earth to her? Twice she’d been here, two distinctly different possibilities yet both of them resulting in her being lost and alone. Had she stayed on John’s Earth any longer, she had no doubt she would have ended up with more than a broken leg.

Carter was applying pressure to her thigh as she sawed at the immobilizer on her leg. Daniel’s hand squeezed her tighter, Mal Doran blanched and swallowed but O’Neill was the one who met her eyes without apology and whose gaze she returned with no need for regrets.

Her hands gripped the chair, her mind floated to other things, trying to elude pain in the manner befitting a Peacekeeper.

The plaster fell away. She glanced down, saw her leg criss-crossed with sutures, bruised and and abraded. O’Neill gave Mal Doran a shove then she crouched down as Carter stood up. The device in her hand pulsated with light as Mal Doran held it over Aeryn’s leg, moving it up and down without touching her skin.

“Well?” O’Neill said. “Anything?”

There was a moment where she wasn’t sure what ‘anything’ meant. She closed her eyes. A hot painful jolt that almost sent her spilling out of the chair, then warmth coursed through her leg and up to her hip.

“Aeryn?” Daniel said.

Aeryn nodded, moved her leg, slowly at first, then flexed it more forcefully. Braced her hands against the chair, able to hold it in place then brought herself to her feet. A wave of dizziness washed over her but Carter caught her by the arm and steadied her.

“Where else are you injured?” Carter asked.

“Everywhere.”

Carter nodded at Vala. She moved the device up and down Aeryn’s body, repairing whatever was left to repair. Aeryn felt like she was coming out of a stupor.

“Are we quite finished?” Vala put her hand down, the device inert at her side.

“Sure looks like it,” Carter said. “Officer Sun?”

Aeryn pulled herself up. Daniel’s eyes widened a bit. He took a step back, looking a little intimidated. She put pressure on her leg, took another step. She turned to General O’Neill, allowed a small glimmer of hope to seep into her the way the device’s energy had.

“Thank you,” she said.

He turned to the soldiers in the room. Mal Doran stared down at the device in her hand, a smirk on her face. “Get her out of here,” O’Neill said.

“Wait! General, I did as you asked!”

“Yeah, you did. Now you can think about how you want your life to go from here on out. Sergeant.”

The soldiers took the device from her, cuffed her then dragged her out, her complaints ending with the closing of the door.

“Jack, you might want to give her a chance,” Daniel said.

O’Neill grunted. “Right now, I have one concern.” He turned to Aeryn. “Let’s get something straight now, Officer Sun. I’m in charge. One wrong move from you, and you’re no better off than your twin out there. You understand?”

“Sir.” She nodded.

“Great.” He turned to Daniel. “I trust I’m not going to have problems with you either? No more of this breaking out guns BS?”

“Jack, we’re as anxious to have this resolved as you are.”

He turned to Carter. “Anything you’d like to add, Carter?”

“A few things. That notebook. Daniel, do you have it?”

“I do,” Jack said. “My office.”

Carter nodded. “Ok. Good. Aeryn’s right; Area 51 is on the agenda, but it sounds like we need John Crichton in tow.” She glanced at Daniel. “The original, that is.”

“No offense taken. The sooner I’m back to being me, the better.”

She turned to O’Neill. “We can beam them back from Canaveral.”

“No, too unstable,” O’Neill said. “That was our problem in the first place. The ‘gate is a better solution.”

“Agreed.”

“Wait, what?” Daniel waved his hands at them both. “Stargate? There’s a Stargate at Canaveral?”

Jack stared down at him, then clapped his hand to his forehead “D’oh! I thought you knew that. Well, now you know.”

“This…Stargate…will do what exactly?” Aeryn tapped her foot, grateful for that small movement.

“Get John, Sam, and Vala back here,” Daniel said. “Unless more surprises await.”

Jack shrugged. “Carter, take them to your quarters so Officer Sun can get showered and changed then meet me in the gateroom. All of you.”

“Sir.” Carter nodded then turned to Aeryn and Daniel and escorted them out.

 


	10. Let It Go

Vala huddled against John but he didn’t seem to notice.  He was half turned toward the window, head tilted up to gaze out.  Samantha drove with her head ducked like she was planning to dodge something—bombs, weapons, stones…?  Vala had no idea but she was absolutely certain ducking was not the answer.  
  
Jack Crichton leaned over the driver’s seat, one hand clutching his wife’s, the other tapping Samantha on the shoulder.  Mrs. Crichton, for her part, had closed her eyes, her lips moving silently in what Vala assumed was prayer.   
  
She’d never had much use for prayer; much less now when she saw the destruction the Ori had wrought. She had both lived as a host for a being that thought itself a God, then later used that to her own advantage.  Blind worship had only led to slavery in her eyes.   
  
Yet…at this moment, she hoped every prayer John’s mother uttered would see them safely through this situation.  
  
Even within the heavily protected Hummer, she heard sirens, saw orderly columns collapse as people on the streets ran toward shelter. Fighters screamed overhead, smoke in the distance and coming closer to the population.  
  
“They’re here,” John said.  He ran his hands through his hair.  “They found me.”  
  
Jack Crichton still had his hand on Sam’s shoulder but he turned toward them.  “Dr. Jackson, what the hell are you talking about?”  
  
“Peacekeepers, Scarrans…I don’t know.”    
  
Crichton shook his head in disgust like the words he’d heard were gibberish.  Vala reached for John’s hand, found it, squeezed it in hers.  He didn’t seem to notice. “Daniel.  It’ll be all right.”  
  
“What kind of nonsense is this?  Colonel Carter!” Crichton was at Sam’s ear but his voice was no whisper.  “What are your orders? We’re sitting ducks out here!”  
  
“Colonel, right now we’re just trying to make it to the base.”    
  
Vala turned away from the ongoing discussion between the two in front of her.  Mrs. Crichton was still quiet, eyes closed, names falling from her lips, part of her litany.  
  
John had turned away from the window, his eyes on his mother’s bowed head then he turned to Vala.  “I have to tell her.”  
  
“No.  This is not the best time.”    
  
“Time, time, time…it’s always about  _time_.  There’s never enough time, there will never  _be_ enough time.  Time  _doesn’t_ heal all wounds.  Don’t you see that?”  
  
“Daniel, what’s going on back there?” Carter glanced into the rear view mirror. Vala could just make out the disapproving look in her brows.    
  
“That’s a damned good question, Dr. Jackson.”  Jack Crichton  turned to him.  “Can you keep a lid on it?  You’re a professional.” His voice was calm but Vala saw the worry in his eyes, the way he leaned against his wife. Leslie Crichton raised her bowed head, turned to her husband.  
  
“Let him be, Jack.”    
  
“Leslie, this is wrong.  All wrong.”  He pointed at John. “Something’s not right about this guy.  I was never a fan, Dr. Jackson, but at least you had the good graces to keep your comments to your yourself.  This?”  He pointed at John, then at Vala.  “This is something else.”  
  
“We’re almost at the base,” Carter said.  “Can you all just simmer down?” Carter hit the gas.  Vala felt the vehicle buck under her as Carter threaded her way through traffic, taking pieces of the sidewalk when the traffic wasn’t moving to her liking.     
  
“No, we can’t,” Jack snapped.  “O’Neill.  You, Colonel Carter.  This guy.  Her.” He pointed at Vala. She pressed herself into the seat back.    
  
“I’m sure we’ll get answers soon enough.” Leslie smiled at John.  “Dr. Jackson, he means no harm.”  
  
“Don’t, Les. They pull us out of our house in the middle of this shit storm and expect us not to ask questions?  What are those things out there and what does it have to do with us?”   
  
“Space invaders,” John said.  “Here’s how it lays out, Jack.  There’s a wormhole.  I opened it.  I  led them here. All this?”  He pushed Vala away and spread his arms out.  “All this crap is because of me.”    
  
“Daniel…”  Carter’s voice had taken on a threatening quality.  
  
His gaze rested on his mother’s. Vala put her hand on his arm but he shook her off.      
  
“And because of you.”  John Crichton held his hand out to his mother.  Her smile faded away; she shook her head but reached out to him.   
  
“I…I don’t understand.”  Leslie’s hand gripped his; Vala thought it looked like she didn’t want to let go.   
  
“Because this is all nonsense.” Jack’s voice had lost some conviction.  
  
“Johnny Crichton died in 1986, didn’t he,” John said.  “And you didn’t go on the Challenger flight, did you? That kept you from dying.”  
  
“What are you talking about? Nothing happened to the Challenger.”  
  
John snorted out a laugh, pulled away from his mother’s hand, sat back with fists on his forehead.  “Oh, right. Right. Different times, Jack. Once, on another Earth,  there was a boy named John who became an astronaut just like his dad always wanted.”  
  
The Hummer had made it to the gates of the airbase. Vala held her breath against the train wreck she could see on the horizon.    
  
“Daniel, this can wait,” Carter said.  “We’re almost there and then we can make contact with SGC and get back home.”   
  
The guard at the gate took her credentials, peered into the vehicle then nodded her through.  John and Jack Crichton shook their heads at the same time in response to her suggestion.    
  
“It’s waited long enough,” Jack Crichton said.  “Spit it out, Jackson.  What are you trying to say?”  
  
John turned to Vala, his eyes searching for what she supposed he always found in the woman beside him—support, comfort.  Strength.  Aeryn Sun was the one who should be sitting here now, not her.    
  
He sighed, turned away from her to his father.  “My name is John Robert Crichton, Jr.  I…”  His eyes met his mother’s.  “I’m your son.”

 

***

 

He’d said it. Watching her sit in front of him, twisting her ring between the fingers of her right hand.  Her head on his father’s shoulder, the way she seemed half turned toward him sitting in the backseat.  
  
He’d been waiting to exhale. It should have been relief.    
  
Carter continued forward, her hard stare reflected at him in the mirror. Beside him,  Vala--not Aeryn--held his arm, vise like.    
  
Jack Crichton’s nostrils flared, his face red from holding back the explosion that John knew was fighting its way out.  
  
Leslie…Her mouth was open, moving but there were no words.  Then she shook her head.  “No.  No.  Why, Daniel?  No.”  She turned away, squared her shoulders as she sucked in a breath.  Shut him out.  
  
“Pull over, Colonel.  Pull over so I can kick this son of a bitch’s ass.”  Jack Crichton shook free of his wife, reached over the seat and grabbed for John’s collar.  John retracted himself toward the window, Vala caught between them. She shifted forward, caught Jack’s wrist before the old man could make it over the seat.  
  
“Stop it! Please. Colonel Crichton.  Please.”   
  
“Jack.” Leslie’s voice floated over his father’s heavy breathing.  “She’s right.  This…just don’t.”  
  
Jack turned away, faced forward in his seat.  John stared at the backs of their heads.  Mom and dad, right there. And not.  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Vala whispered into his ear.  She pressed her body against him, trapping him between it and the door.  “Don’t move. Don’t say another word.”  
  
“Bad timing. Always.”  
  
She snorted softly.  “That’s your mantra isn’t it.  If you know that, then why? Why blow your second chance?”  
  
“No time like the present.”  He couldn’t take it back. The genie was out of the bottle.  He looked toward Sam; she’d just placed the radio back in its cradle.  
  
“Good news.” She sounded like the exact opposite.  “Colonel, your daughters Susan and Olivia are here, along with their families.”  
  
Jack Crichton squared his shoulders.  “Then drive on and get us the hell out of here.”  
  
Susan. Olivia…would they be more willing to accept the possibilities?  
  
Leslie gave him one brief, backwards glance, granting him the kind of smile you might give to a lost stranger, then turned away.

 

***

 

Two women stood at the far end of the conference room into which an unarmed escort had left his parents.  John caught a glimpse of them as the door opened, allowing Leslie and Jack inside.    
  
The women and Leslie met each other half way; in a whirl of movement he saw Olivia and Susan, their faces drawn with worry.  No trace of kids, from what he could tell.  Olivia cast a quick glance toward the door then turned her attention back to her parents as the door closed him out.  
  
It felt like the freakin’ Godfather.  
  
Vala tugged on his sleeve and pulled him along. They followed Carter into another set of rooms.  To the group here, they were members of SG1, with a tag-along in the form of Vala Mal Doran.  
  
_“Nothin’.  I got nothin’.”  He shakes the walkie-talkie he holds in his hand.  Harvey stands beside him._  
  
_“Mayday, mayday!” Harvey shouts into his own handset.  He pries the back open, shakes it. “No batteries, John. As always, unprepared.”_  
  
_“Shut up.”_  
  
_“What was your plan? Or rather, which plan? The one to close the wormhole and refuse Scorpius’ assistance?”_  
  
_There’s a chalkboard in front of them, John’s name on the top, one category for winner, one for loser, split down the middle with a thin line of pink chalk._  
  
_“Hmm.”  Harvey marks the loser column.  “I’d say ‘close the wormhole to earth’ is probably a lost cause.”_

  
_“You don’t know that. Let me think.”_  
  
_“Are we any closer to Moya? Aeryn? Peacekeepers? There had to be more eloquence than blurting it out to her.”  Harvey tapped his chin, then affected a resonant voice. “’Luke, I am your father’”  He smiled like he’d told a joke.  “If I recall correctly, that resulting in our young hero nearly falling to his death.”_  
  
_“Shut. Up.” He looks up, sees ships moving in combat formations—Scarran Strykers, Peacekeeper Prowlers.  There’s US Air Force up there too and something else he doesn’t recognize, something ancient and alien all at once.  The skies are full of smoke and fire._  
  
_“Peacekeepers—how did you keep them from turning to goo? How was Scorpius going to defend my planet if he couldn’t prevent them from turning to goo?”_  
  
_Harvey shrugs.  “Sometimes it’s not all about you, John.”  He turns, slaps John lightly on the face.  “Now, pay attention.  Focus.  What do you need to do to get home?”_  
  
_What had he expected?  Tap three times, there’s no place like home?  Wasn’t that what Mitchell had said? Vala? Any of them, comparing him to Dorothy Gail from Kansas, summoning the wicked witch and opening them up to destruction—_  
  
Telling his mother hadn’t solved the problem.  Even if she’d welcomed him with open arms…it wasn’t a whistle and a blink.  It was art and science and it had collided with Samantha Carter’s world.  
  
“Daniel!”  Carter stopped in front of an office.   He’d been to this base countless times with his father, working on the Farscape project.  He glanced at the name on the door:  Colonel Douglas Knox…  
  
“Won’t get fooled again,” he muttered.  
  
Vala nudged him.  “The less senseless mumbling from you at this point, the better.  Don’t you think?”  
  
Carter glared at both of them.  “I don’t know this guy at all…”  
  
“I do.”   
  
Vala raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess.  Long lost brother?”  
  
“Best friend.  In my time, DK and I built the Farscape module that got me catapulted into another universe.”  He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t even know if he knows my dad….or knew me.”  
  
“Well.  I guess we won’t know until we do.”  Carter knocked once.  The door opened and an airman led them inside.  
  
DK was heavier than John remembered, his thick brown hair much shorter as befitted his rank, John supposed.  He wore BDUs and was on the phone.  He motioned them in, finished his conversation then hung up the phone.  
  
“Colonel Carter, good to see you again.” He went around the desk, shook her hand then turned to John.  “Daniel.”  He extended his hand and offered a friendly smile. Seemed like Daniel hadn’t screwed up this relationship.  He turned to Vala, the same smile on his face.  “O’Neill tells me you’re on our side, Vala Mal Doran?”  
  
She extended her hand, looking surprisingly nervous. “Yes, Colonel.  Of course.”  
  
“Sit down.”  
  
Carter nodded, and they sat. DK returned to his chair.    
  
John scanned the room.  There was a portrait of an American president he didn’t recognize.  Family photos on the desk faced DK, leaving John with no more clues than what sat in front of him.      
  
“General O’Neill has asked me to make arrangements to get you back to Stargate command using any means necessary.”  
  
“Colonel?” Carter shook her head.  “What does that mean, exactly.”  
  
“The Stargate. He’s sure about you all but not so sure about my in-laws. I think it’s too much for Leslie to handle.  Though…I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to keep a secret with all the shit going on out there.”  
  
One picture sat on the shelf behind Colonel Douglas Knox.  John squinted, leaned forward.  It was a family photo…DK in hiking gear, his arm around an attractive woman with brown hair and a big smile, his other arm around a little girl who looked a lot like her dad.  
  
Olivia. It was Olivia.  He sat back, gut punched. Happy for his sister, happy for his best friend…and dead to all of it.  
  
“How bad is it?” Carter asked.    
  
DK sighed.  “Prometheus and the Korolev are taking the brunt of it right now.  Russia’s sent out their fighters, as have we.  No major cities have been taken out.”  
  
_“Yet,” Harvey whispered, dressed in combat gear.  He tapped a watch that took up most of his wrist. “Time is a-wasting, John. You saw it already.”_  
  
John leaned forward, ignoring the images in his head, and tapped a finger on the desk.  Colonel Douglas Knox—John let that one settle for a moment—raised an eyebrow at him. No annoyance, not like O’Neill or even Carter, but a look that seemed truly curious was aimed at him.  
  
“So, you’re married to Jack Crichton’s daughter?” John said. “Didn’t…didn’t she have a brother?”  He was going for broke.  Vala turned to him, scowled.  Carter looked like she was holding her breath.  
  
“He died a long time ago.”  He cleared his throat.  “Is that it on my personal life?”  
  
John nodded.  “Yeah.  Sorry.  So. The plan?”  
  
“As I was saying, General O’Neill wants you back at SGC when he feels conditions are right.  I told him we have the means to keep the Crichtons safe here.  Seems kind of paramount to him, though he didn’t say why.  I mean, I certainly appreciate it but I don’t think he’s doing it for me.”  
  
“What conditions is he waiting for?” Carter asked.  
  
“He didn’t elaborate.  He said you’d know and asked me to give you access to command.” He stood up.  “Let’s go.”

  
   
Vala held fast to his arm down a few flights of stairs John didn’t remember, past guards and what appeared to be heavy leaded doors.  Her grip on him seemed designed to hold him in place, like if she let go, he’d float away.    
  
“You can give me my arm back."  He tried to pull away from her but she hung on tighter.  
  
In front of them, DK and Carter spoke.  John caught words like alliances, unidentified craft, bunker…in short, lots of shit.  
  
“I don’t  think so.” Vala pulled harder.  “You're the one screwing the pooch.  Don’t you understand? It’s not just you. It’s me, and Samantha and every person on this planet.  So just shut it until we can get back to Stargate Command.  Do you think you can do that?”  
  
“I helped that guy cheat on his SATs…”  
  
“What is an ess A tea?”  She shook her head. “Never mind.  I’m sure it’s another Earth term I don’t need to know.”  
  
DK turned to them, squinting at John like he was trying to figure something out.   
  
“Something wrong?” John asked.  
  
DK shook his head, blinked.  “Nothing.  That SAT thing—”  
  
“You heard that?”  Vala smacked John on the arm.   
  
“Just reminded me of something.” He turned to Sam.  “When the chips are down, I guess you start to appreciate where you started.”  He slid a key card through a reader which then opened up another reader.  He placed his thumb print against it.  John heard tumblers falling into place then DK pushed on the door and led them inside.  
  
It was nothing John had seen before.  He’d been to this base hundreds of times. He and DK had refined the module here, working with some of the best astrophysicists and engineers to bring their dream to fruition.  Jack Crichton had been stationed here before John had even started high school, when he and DK were still junior high nerds waiting for their growth spurts.    
  
Grief hit him in an unexpected wave.  D’Argo hadn’t spared any details about DK's and Laura's deaths.  Had he wanted to make the point that John was dangerous? That Earth was unwelcoming? That there were things beyond their control that could and would destroy all that he loved?   Lakka wouldn’t hide it, fleeing Earth for the Uncharted Territories hadn’t stopped it.   
  
He was living that now, in a way he’d never imagined.  Two worlds, side by side.  Both of them with an open wormhole as the golden ticket.  Had this little u-turn meant his own reality was safe?  Or had he now sent two Earths straight to hell?   
  
He, Vala, Sam, and DK stood on a deck enclosed in glass.  Bulletproof, John guessed. Even Sam gazed at it through wide eyes, enough that DK nudged her.    
  
“Come on, Colonel.  You have one of these at home.”  
  
One of these was the Stargate.    
  
He moved to the control panel alongside a man who looked more scientist than military, much like the Douglas Knox and John Crichton of John’s own reality.  “Sergeant, do you have General O’Neill on comms?”  
  
“Sir, as you requested.”    
  
DK gave the man a curt nod then leaned toward the microphone.  “General, I have Colonel Carter and her team here.”  
  
“Thank you, Colonel.  Can we have a moment?”  O’Neill didn’t sound like he expected anything other than a yes.   
  
DK nodded to them, then tapped his Sergeant on the shoulder.  The two of them left and closed the door behind them.   
  
A Stargate. There was one here, and there was one there.  Sam apparently knew nothing about this one.  O’Neill did, yet had flown them to the base, albeit with armed escorts.  
  
Why not just use the Stargate?  Why not just have Colonel Douglas Knox act as their calling card?  Why let them all step in it—?  
  
John scrubbed his hands over his face, knocking the glasses off  in the process.  Vala squatted down to pick them up; he met her half way.  
  
“O’Neill’s on to you guys,” he whispered.  
  
“What?”  
  
He held her hand, keeping her close to the floor.  “The Stargate.  There’s a Stargate.  Why didn’t he send us through that thing?”  
  
Vala’s mouth dropped open then snapped shut. She turned, glanced at Sam, but it was apparent Carter had already done the math.  
  
Carter leaned over the console, flipped some switches as O’Neill’s face appeared on the monitor above.  Carter gave them a look that clearly communicated she was doing the talking.  John wasn’t about to argue.  
  
“Sir, we’ve secured the Crichtons,” Sam said.  “Colonel Knox says they’re not going to accompany us?”  
  
“Colonel Knox is wrong.  They’ll be getting here later, along with Knox himself.  I want you three back for debriefing.  Questions?”  O’Neill raised his eyebrows, his expression forbidding questions.  
  
“No, sir.”  
  
“Knox will get you prepped and ready to go.  We’ll be waiting. O’Neill out.”  
  
The screen turned to pixels while Carter turned to them.  “Just gonna hazard a guess but I think this world’s SG1 just showed up in Stargate command.”  
  
“And?”  John said.  
  
Carter shrugged. “Daniel’s still there.  Aeryn.  Cam and Teal’c are likely in the Prometheus.  This doesn’t change much of anything.”  
  
“This changes everything!”  
  
Vala laid a hand on his arm. “Advice, John.  Two Carters are better than one. At least, that’s the guess I’ll hazard.”  
  
The door opened, Knox appearing again. His demeanor had changed from cordial to solemn.    
  
“Colonel?”  Carter said.    
  
“Just got my instructions.  We’ll be joining you once you’re settled back at SGC.”  He perched his fists on his hips, glanced up.  “Ride of a lifetime, I’m told.  Not so sure Livvie’s gonna agree.”  
  
Olivia.  John took a deep breath, soaked it in.  Olivia.  Susan.  A niece he didn’t have in another life, a mother he’d lost in another life.  A best friend who was a brother now.   
  
Would staying be so bad?  
  
“Colonel?  Your wife?  Livvie, right?”  
  
Vala elbowed him.  DK looked from her to John, a question in his eyes.  
  
“I apologize. Daniel can be very nosy,”  she said.  “Rudely so.”  
  
DK nodded.  “Yeah, it seems so. O’Neill was very specific. No time for questions or discussions.  We’re already late.”  
  
Carter took his arm on one side, Vala on the other, and together they followed DK out of the room.

 

***

 

 Aeryn stood between Daniel and Samantha Carter in the gate room, O’Neill in front of them like a guard. 

  
Imposing, impressive…the Stargate was unlike anything she’d seen before.   Its purpose, from what she understood, was to create a wormhole, transport them to places that connected with it.    
  
She closed her eyes.  If only it was that easy.  If only she could step into it, find herself sitting at the base of Pilot’s console, cleaning her weapons, the certainty of Pilot’s movements behind her as Moya hummed beneath her.    
  
“Aeryn?”  Daniel tapped her on the arm.  She opened her eyes, turned to him.  Once John was back where he belonged, she didn’t really care whose form he took.    
  
Carter glanced at her, gave her a reassuring nod.  The device they’d used on her had returned her to health, completely. The baby…she assumed that it was safe but there was no way to be sure, not without Peacekeeper tech. She was doubtful she’d see that again.  
  
A voice came through the speakers— “General, sequence initiated.”    
  
O’Neill nodded without turning around.  She watched as the Stargate turned then locked with a piece clanging into place, each piece containing a symbol, seven in all.  Then there was a blue, almost liquid center, more familiar to her than it ought to be.  A wormhole.  
  
“Here comes the kawoosh,” Carter said.  Daniel glanced at her, smiled in recognition and nodded.  Her translator microbes hadn’t captured that one.  
  
Three figures emerged from the center—Vala, Colonel Carter, and Daniel Jackson’s body.  He was shaking his head like he was trying to clear his ears, stumbling over his feet.  She took a step toward the ramp but Daniel caught her arm.  
  
“Wait,” he said.    
  
The wormhole seemed to get sucked back toward the gate’s edges as the trio came down the ramp, Carter steadying John who stepped drunkenly. John accepted the help, found his footing.  Stopped as he got to the bottom of the ramp and met her eyes.  
  
“Aeryn!!”  
  
No one tried to hold her back this time.    
  
“You’re all right.”  John clung to her, arms around her like he wasn’t going to let her go. His face was buried in her hair, ignorant of the people around them.  “They’re in Florida—DK, my mom and dad, my sisters…they’re coming here.”  He still didn’t move.  “How…what…your leg and….” He pulled away, his hands cupping her face, thumb over her cheekbone.  “You’re healed.”  
  
“Vala Mal Doran…a different one…”  
  
He nodded then held her hand and turned to face O’Neill. “Okay. The gang’s all here.”  He lingered on the second Samantha Carter.  “And then some.”  
  
Colonel Carter had remained at the foot of the ramp, considering her double.  Then she walked up to where Aeryn stood with John.  
  
“You were right, John.” She stepped past them.  “So,” she said to her double.  “You have any solutions to this?”  
  
“Well, Daniel…or John Crichton or whoever he is there” —she nodded her head toward Aeryn— “All that needs to get straightened out.”

 

***

 

They followed the dual Carters, Vala and Daniel, and General O’Neill.  With the haze of pain no longer clouding her eyes, she saw it now.  The vigilance on the base, the way people moved in tight formations throughout.  She’d known it, for that little while in Florida, that Earth was under attack.    
  
_We can’t leave them here to die.  Not because of something I did._  
  
John was right.  She squeezed his hand, drawing his attention to her then leaned toward him.  
  
“D’Argo and the others,” she began.  “They found us.”  
  
“What?  You’re sure?”  
  
She nodded.   
  
“Sonofabitch…I don’t know if that’s just made it better or worse.”  
  
“Worse.  Scorpius is with them.  And…and they have the module.”  
  
He pulled her to a stop.  “Shit. How?”  
  
She shook her head then pulled him forward.  “Don’t know. Prowlers.  Peacekeepers. They’re here.”  
  
“Peacekeepers.  Scarrans. Scorpius.”  His expression said it all; she pulled him close.  
  
“We are going to make this right."  
  
“How?  Aeryn? We don’t have comms, we don’t have any way to get out of this place.  Even if I could fool anyone into believing I’m Daniel Jackson, your double’s a criminal.”   
  
“There a problem?”  Jack O’Neill brought his group to a halt and turned to them, eyes narrowed.  
  
“General, I’m just glad to be back here with my woman,” John said, a little too jovially. He wrapped an arm around her, hugged her and kissed her.  Vala looked at them, then back at Daniel Jackson who stood next to Vala, mouth agape.  
  
“Well…” O’Neill shook his head.  “Try to tamp down your enthusiasm.”  He continued on.  The Carters were talking, one of them filling in the details for the other.  
  
“Maybe we can get Vala and Daniel to help us,” she said.   
  
“You’re kidding, right?”  
  
“What if we didn’t switch back?  O’Neill thought I was Vala…Maybe we can convince Daniel to play the same game.”  
  
“No. I’m done playing games.  My family is on their way here.  DK…here he’s married to Livvie.  They have a daughter.”  
  
She felt her stomach sink.  His family…all of them.  Olivia, who’d been so kind to her, his father—real people against any escape plan she could concoct.   
  
“Is it bad out there?”  Scarrans, Peacekeepers, Earth guarded by maybe two command carrier class ships.  She’d only seen one.     
  
“It’s gonna get a whole lot worse unless we can do something.  Scorpius…he can call off his dogs—”  
  
She shook her head.  “I don’t think he’s part of it. He’s with D’Argo. And I think they might be using him as leverage.”  
  
“Yeah?  For what. Wish I knew what he has in mind.”  
  
“The pod had a beacon, John.  And D’Argo was too close for it to just be an accident.”  
  
“You think the pod’s here?”  
  
She shook her head.  “I’m fairly certain it’s not. But if D’Argo was using long range scans, it can’t be too far from here. One of us needs to convince the general to get us there.  Even if you go alone.”  
  
He pulled her closer.  “Not a chance. Anyway for what it’s worth, he doesn’t trust any one of us.  And that includes the  team that came through when we did.”  
  
He nodded his head toward the path in front of them.  “General, this isn’t the way to the lab.”  
  
O’Neill came to a stop, opened a door and ushered them into another room, not bothering with an answer.

 

***

 

O'Neill sat them in a row on one side of the conference table:  John, Aeryn, Daniel, Vala. John glanced over at his body, Daniel Jackson sitting stiffly in it.  Vala had pushed her chair away from the table and had her legs stretched out in front of her, jiggling one foot and glancing between him and Daniel.   
  
For his part, John held Aeryn’s hand and hadn’t let it go.    
  
“So when do I get my old self back?” he asked.  He’d taken off his sport coat, and had thrown the tie on the table.    
  
“Good question,” Daniel added. “Us staying like this serves no purpose.”  
  
“You two guys seem just fine.”  O’Neill had placed one Carter alongside him, the other at the far end of the table.  It was clear to John which was which.  
  
John glanced around the room. It looked to him like a strategy room, one wall of glass in the middle of it with a map of some sort. Various points of light glowed on the map, some clustered, some spread out.    
  
O’Neill shot them a look while the Carter next to him punched something up on a computer.  The glass wall came alive, holographic images projected on it.  Aeryn leaned forward as they saw targets hit—homes, shopping centers, office buildings—on fire.  
  
John sank back into his chair.  “Florida,” he said.  The shape of things as the image scaled back.    
  
“Did they get out?” Vala said.  Her voice was solemn.  
  
“No casualty reports as yet. We were able to engage these and chase them off.  But I think you can see where this is going.”  He turned to John.  “So which force is that? The Scarrans you keep talking about? Peacekeepers that she’s talked about.”  He nodded toward Aeryn. “Or is it the third ship, your friends.”  
  
“Not them,” Aeryn said.  “They--us.  You know we all want the same thing.  I told you what that was.”  
  
“All your demands met, no questions asked. So reasonable.”  O’Neill nodded with a smirk, glanced at the Carter at the end of the table. “What about you, Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter?  What do you think?”  
  
“I think we’re screwed unless we can do whatever we need to do to close the wormhole and get us—” she motioned between herself and John, then turned to Daniel Jackson.  “Oh, brother.  Daniel and I, and Cam, and Teal’c and, yes, Vala, back to our Earth.  John Crichton, whether you like it or not, seems instrumental to that.  They can be trusted.”  
  
“Can you?”  O’Neill leaned on the table, turned toward her.  
  
The Carter at his side tapped him on the arm.  “Jack.  She’s right.”  
  
O’Neill stood up straight, eyed each of them, one by one.  Daniel Jackson shrugged.  Vala tossed her hair and looked away.  His  gaze settled on John for just a moment, then he turned to Aeryn.  John reached for her arm but she shook him off as she rose out of her chair, healthy, fierce.  
  
The General set his mouth in a grim line. “Well, Officer Sun.  Looks like you’re going to get what you want after all.”

 

***

 

“Now what?” Vala pushed her chair away from the table and walked to the glass wall.

O’Neill had left it blinking at them, but the 3-D images were gone. It didn’t look like much more than a Light Brite. How many had died, been injured? How many places gone?

Vala spread her fingers over the map but didn’t touch it. “Do we have one of these thingies at home? You know, with the holograms?” She turned to Carter. “Samantha?”

Carter shook her head, stood up and paced. “I wish he hadn’t taken the computer.”

“Well, we can’t all get what we want.” Vala glanced at Aeryn. “And what is it you do want, exactly?”

Aeryn stood up, walked to where Vala stood. The other woman stepped back toward the glass wall.

“For now, I want to thank you,” she said.

Vala blinked in response, looked at Daniel. “For what?”

“For…” Aeryn shrugged. “For taking care of John. For protecting what’s important to me.”

“That is no easy feat, believe me. Other than the lovely body he’s wearing, you can keep him. But getting us back where we belong is on your wish list, though, right?” Vala sounded like she wasn’t sure.

“She’s two out of three,” Daniel said. “John, her health…now it’s the pod.”

“What, was it like a genie and three wishes?” Vala said. “We can’t have a few more?”

“Vala, you’re pushing your luck,” John said. “I’m guessing O’Neill will let us go to the pod. But my question is…” He rubbed his thumb over his lip in thought. “Why did he dump us in here and not get us back in the right bodie? I mean, it can be done, right?”

Carter took a deep breath. “I wouldn’t. Switch you back, that is. Just like he let you and Aeryn see your parents through Daniel and Vala. The perfect hostage.”

John snorted. “And here I thought you were on our side.”

“I am.” She walked to where Aeryn and Vala stood, eyed both of them. “Aeryn. I don’t see General O’Neill letting you go, unless he has some way to keep you in line.”

“That is not happening,” John said.

“John,” Aeryn said. “Let her finish.

“You’re an officer of an alien military force and…” She looked Aeryn up and down. “And you’re back to full health. There is no way I’d want you wandering around out there if I was General O’Neill.”

“I _was_ an officer.” She turned to John. “We need to finish what we started before the costs go any higher.”

Was she being purposely obtuse? Was there something else behind that pregnancy that she was willing to risk? He’d put it out of his mind—her capture, Katratzi, getting Scorpius off Moya, closing a wormhole…the issue of the baby’s DNA just hadn’t seemed that important.

_Whose baby is it? Who’s the daddy, Aeryn?_

Sure, he’d been talking to a fembot but…what about that part of him that deserved an answer? Shooting the bioloid in the face, taking the chance that it was not Aeryn…Everything was a gamble.

_ We don’t know who the daddy is, John…. _

The Scarrans had grabbed her as a means to him, had tortured her, almost killed her, because of whatever DNA she carried. And she hadn’t given him up; she hadn’t given up anything.

To anyone.

_I would put my life in your hands…but not my heart._

God, he could be such an asshole. He covered his face with his hands, tried to wash away that particular moment: John Crichton at his shining best.

Yet, it was still a question he wanted answered, even if the outcome would remain exactly the same.

“Sam, she’s pregnant. So she’s not exactly going to go in guns blazing. ” Though he knew she could if she wanted to.

Aeryn glared at him as Sam Carter raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Whoa.” She turned to Daniel. “Did you know that?”

Vala answered before Jackson could. “Yes, we did.”

“And…? Vala?”

“I…” Vala turned to Daniel, as if looking for a rescue.

“Yeah, things could have gone really, really wrong,” Daniel finished.

“But, you’re stable, right?” Sam said. “Aeryn? Your baby…is it okay?”

Aeryn’s expression gave nothing away. Questions bounced around in his head like ping-pong balls but he bit them back.

“So…if we shared this information with Jack, it might make him believe you were less likely to take a big risk.” But she was looking at John when she said it. Assumption made— _it’s your baby, of course._

“Sam, I thought you were smarter than that. This whole venture, this whole _thing_ —” John spread his arms, taking it all in. “You think _this_ is the biggest risk I’ve ever taken?”

_Aeryn lying impaled on a table. Kalish with a knife, ready to slice her open to steal what was inside. She and Chiana drugged—_

_ Her body limp in his arms as they fled the Scarrans. His brain crying out “live, please live, please live….” _

_ In his arms as Katratzi exploded around them _

_ Separated when the pod crashed to Earth, waking up from a stupor and knowing/not knowing she was lost…one last glance at Pilot. Taken into someone’s custody without her…who, what, when, where…How? _

“Hell, this past few weeks we’ve saved Aeryn from death and dismemberment, blown up a Scarran base, pissed them off, pissed off the Peackeepers by telling them to shove it—crashed and burned and killed Pilot. I did all that. And you’re afraid of _Aeryn_?”

_His home, destroyed. His home, elsewhere, its fate uncertain._

He was shouting. He heard the quiver in his voice, the breath hitching in chest, couldn’t stop it—

_“Incoming!” Harvey grabs him by the neck and shoves him down into a foxhole._

_“Get your hands off me.” John struggles against him but Harvey’s stronger._

_“You’re losing your marbles, Johnny boy. Cuckoo. PTSD. Death, death, death. If you don’t clear your head, we’re all dead! Aeryn, you, me, dad, beer, pizza-DEAD!” He flips John around, grabs him by the lapels of a WWI uniform. His body pressed against John’s. “Buck up, soldier, or lose your head. Those are your choices.”_

He stepped back, fell against the table. Something felt like it was sitting on his chest, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“John!” Aeryn at his side, pulling him to her. Her arms strong around Daniel Jackson’s body with John Crichton inside it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what happened….”

What happened? He’d outlined it, inelegantly. Left out the part where he couldn’t save his mother. Where he could watch his family die, or leave them to die without him.

“It’s not your fault. None of it.” She pulled away, cupped her hands around his face. Forced him to look at her. “Everything you said. We’re  _all_ complicit. It’s not your burden.” She squeezed his hand, helped him to his feet. “Come on.”

Sam turned to Aeryn. “Is he all right?”

“I’m fine.” John flicked at his ear. “Fine. Gotta get a grip.”

Sam didn’t look convinced. “One more outburst like that and you’re not going anywhere in _any_ body. You understand?”

He nodded.

“Good.” Sam walked to the door, tried the handle. “Locked.” She turned to them. “Can I trust you, John?” She stepped forward until they were eye to eye. “John?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. We’re running out of time, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know.”

“I mean I have no readings. I mean I’ve been in Florida with my parents. I mean I don’t even know what day it is.” He tapped on his forehead. “It’s still here, humming. That’s all I know.”

“You said we had a limited window of opportunity. How much time do we have before we run out?” Sam paced back to where he stood, Aeryn at his side.

Aeryn pivoted in front of him, arms extended out with flat palms. Just defensive enough to send a message.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Jack’s really going to let you and John go alone.” She reached out, put her hand on Aeryn’s arm and guided it back to her side. Aeryn squared her shoulders, nodded.

“We’re all a little on edge,” Daniel said. “But we have to work together. Guys?”

“Right.” Vala answered for them all. “If you can behave, maybe you can keep the bodies you were born with.”

Aeryn ignored that, turned to John. “Do you know, John? Are we too late?”

_Time. Wormholes. The knowledge to unravel events._

_Next time... your reality... forever_

“Absolute engrossment.” He shook his head. “Too many distractions, Aeryn.” He squeezed her shoulder. She was real. He was real. His body stood a few feet away, looking at him like he was insane. An Aeryn copy cut her eyes between him and his body.

“Aeryn?” Carter said.

In front of him, Aeryn shook her head, her back to him, and still serving as a roadblock between him and Carter.

“I think I know,” was all she said.

 

 


	11. The Weight of Love

She wanted to believe that the shadow and light behind her eyes was actual sight. That John, Aeryn, and Pilot were nearby. That she would see again.

As Lo’la came to a landing, all of them quiet as if their voices would give away their location, she could have sworn that she saw Earth—An oasis of tall, thin stalked swaying trees, sandy beaches that turned to oceans. Cool water lapping at her feet, then rising to her ankles as day sunk into night.

“What is this wasteland?” Rygel was the first to break the silence. Of course. “D’Argo, where have you dropped us?”

The ping of the beacon had gotten louder and louder as D’Argo had decided to make good on his declaration to find John, Aeryn and Pilot.

“This is where the beacon originates.” D’Argo filled the air with Luxan curses.

“We’re on Earth, right…?” she asked.

“Yes. I thought we might be back at John’s home, but Rygel’s right. This is a desert. A well defended one, from what I can… see.”

He paused at the word “see”. Like saying it would hurt her feelings.

“It would appear so,” Scorpius added his commentary like she needed it. She could still smell him.

“What are you gonna do?” she asked. “How heavily defended?”

D’Argo sighed. “As in this is a military base.”

Rygel laughed. “Oh, just _that_? Let’s see. Peacekeeper gammak base. Shadow depositories. Scorpius’ own ship!” He paused. “No offense to you, of course,” he added with fake sincerity. “Scarran freighters and bases. And you’re afraid of some humans!”

“So, you think we should just march out there?” D’Argo said.

“I think we should have stayed on Moya. But since we didn’t, and we’re here, perhaps we should offer something of interest in exchange for something else…”

The whir of the thronesled then commotion around her in the tightness of ship. Was D’Argo going for Rygel’s throat? “Frell it! D’Argo…D’Argo, what’re you doing?”

“Ka D’Argo, you’re making a mistake—” Scorpius’ arguments came to an abrupt stop.

“Nothing from you!” Then it was the Qualta blade she heard coming to life.

“Now, that’s more like it,” Rygel said. “After all, D’Argo, what better position could we possibly have than holding the commander of an invading force?”

D’Argo said something in ancient Luxan and Lo’La responded. “Open communications with our last Earth contact,” he said. “General Jack O’Neill.”

 

***

 

Jack O’Neill stood with his assembled team at the foot of the Stargate. Carter had made quick work of explaining the current situation to Mitchell, Teal’c and Daniel. She’d already sent Mitchell to Area 51 to avoid any confusion with John Crichton here. Not even Daniel had questioned it…much.

Colonel Knox and the Crichtons were expected through the gate. Jack counted eight in all—Jack and Leslie, their two daughters, Knox, another son in law and two grandkids. He hadn’t spared any time detailing the who, what, where to his remaining team. He’d left that to Sam.

One loose end had resurfaced: Woolsey, by orders of President Hank Landry, was back in his hair. Whatever purpose Woolsey officially served on this round, unofficially he was just a pain in O’Neill’s ass.

Harriman’s voice filtered through the gate room, calmly announcing each sequence as it fell into place. O’Neill had cleared out the room, leaving his armed troops outside. The last thing he needed were civilians being greeted with guns in their faces.

The wormhole spat through the gate, stabilized then the figures emerged— Jack Crichton, arm around his wife. A man and woman with a teenage boy trailing them. Then Knox, carrying his little girl in one arm, the other around a pretty brunette. The Crichton family.

They staggered down the ramp a few feet. O’Neill nodded to Daniel and Teal’c who stepped forward to help.

“We’ve got it,” Crichton said. He steadied his wife, glanced at the rest of his family who nodded in response.

Until a day ago, O’Neill hadn’t spoken to Jack in years. Hell, he’d never even given the man another thought after his retirement. They’d served on a couple of presidential advisory boards for space travel but Crichton was older, retired from space exploration in his prime.

The thing they most shared in common—the loss of a young son—had never come up in conversation.

Knox herded the group down the ramp as the wormhole disappeared behind them. His daughter’s face was buried in the Colonel’s shoulder. The boy looked around the room in awe then reached into his pocket for a small video camera.

“Put that away, son,” O’Neill said.

Knox reached forward and took the camera from his nephew. “Bobby, you know better.”

“Come on, Uncle Doug. This is awesome!” The boy continued to marvel at his surroundings while his mother reached out and smacked him on the back of the head.

They reached the foot of the ramp. O’Neill stepped forward, extended his hand to Crichton who took it warily.

“Jack.” They both said at the same time, then smiled.

“Mrs. Crichton.” O’Neill shook her extended hand. “Sorry about the travel arrangements.”

“It was…interesting.” She caught sight of Daniel and Carter. “I…oh good. I see the others made it back all right.”

“Les.” Crichton’s expression flickered toward Daniel and Sam. “See? They’re fine. I told you not to worry about them. General? What now?”

“We’ll take it from here, Colonel Crichton.” Sam stepped forward. “Daniel will take you to some quarters we’ve fixed up for your family.”

“Him?” Crichton stopped in front of Daniel, who stepped back a little. “I’m done with him and everything that comes out of his mouth. Son of a bitch.”

“Excuse me?” Daniel said.

Dammit! God only knew what lunacy John Crichton had shared with his “father”. He should have accounted for it.

“Jack.” Knox set his daughter down. “They’re just trying to help.”

“If you only knew the crap this guy was spewing, you might feel differently.”

“Yeah, he’s nosy,” Knox said. “But harmless.”

“If I’m a problem, I can recuse myself,” Daniel said. “Seems to me that we have enough on our plate—”

“Never mind,” O’Neill said. “Teal’c, please take the Crichtons to their quarters.”

“Wait a darned minute, General.” The mother of the teenager pushed past her husband and parents. “No one’s told us a damned thing. Police, military, some kind of attack? We were herded into buses and taken to the base. Now this? What is going on?”

“Susan.” Her husband stepped forward, put his hand on her shoulder but she shook him off.

Her father’s words cut through the air. “Susan, look after your mother and do what the General says.”

“Jack, I’m fine.” Leslie Crichton squeezed her husband’s arm.

Jack Crichton’s expression softened when he turned to his wife. “I know. But that was a hell of a ride and the kids could probably use some grandma time. Right, Bobby? Johanna?”

The little girl pulled away from her mother. The child couldn’t have been much more than five. Her bright eyes gazed out from under brown bangs as she nodded at her grandfather and ran to her grandmother who picked her up with a grunt.

O’Neill heaved an inward sign of relief.

“We are going to get _some_ explanation, though, right?” Knox’s wife looked uncertainly around the room, as awestruck as her nephew.

“Of course,” O’Neill said. “But your dad’s right. That was a helluva a ride and you folks need to get settled in. Mrs….” He turned to Crichton’s elder daughter.

Jack Crichton pointed to his family, each in turn. “Susan, Olivia, Frank, Bobby, Johanna. You know the rest.”

“OK. Susan. I don’t need to tell you that the situation is very delicate. And I also don’t need to tell you that we have our reasons for releasing minimal information—”

“Oh, like this place, right? Dad?”

“Susan, will you pipe down and let the man finish?”

“We, for reasons that we’ll get into later, felt it best to have all of you here, under this roof. It’s one of the safest places on Earth. And that’s all I’m gonna say for now.”

“So just thank your lucky stars.” Jack Crichton held O’Neill’s gaze. “Right, General?”

“Right.” He turned to Teal’c. “Go ahead.”

Teal’c nodded and started out of the gate room. Knox gave his wife a quick kiss; she didn’t look quite appeased. The boy, Bobby, started to grumble, glanced at his mother, then caught up with Teal’c, peppering him with questions that O’Neill was sure wouldn’t get answered.

The group disappeared out the door.

“Okay. Now that they’re safely away.” Jack Crichton approached Daniel before O’Neill could even register what was happening.

The old man swung his fist, landed a glancing blow on Daniel’s jaw. Daniel staggered back, grabbing Sam’s arm to steady himself.

“Jack!” Knox said. “These people are here to help!”

Daniel rubbed his jaw. “Colonel Crichton, with all due respect—Why?”

“That’s for all the grief you’ve caused my wife, Dr. Jackson.” He turned to Carter. “Colonel Carter, I’m surprised at you.”

Carter blanked for a moment then nodded. “Because he was in Florida with you.”

“That’s a vague way to say it.” Crichton shook free of his son in law. “DK, that guy told Leslie that he’s John.”

“What?” Daniel said.

Jack’s brain echoed the same question.

“John…. _Our_ John? But…” Knox kept his gaze on Jackson. “Why would he do that?”

The question seemed to take the wind out of the old man’s sails. He stood, mouth open but speechless for a moment. Just a moment. “There is absolutely no reason to rattle her like that.” But he didn’t sound quite as sure.

“So…why?” Knox turned to Jackson. “Dr. Jackson?”

Daniel shook his head. “Sam?”

“There’s a reason for it,” Carter said. “It may sound crazy but there’s a reason for it.”

O’Neill clapped his hand on Crichton’s shoulder. “Jack. You just took a thirty second trip from Canaveral to here. Through a wormhole. When Sam Carter tells you there’s a reason, you can pretty much guarantee there’s an answer.”

 

***

 

Jack led his remaining team, Crichton and Knox up the staircase to the control room. Woolsey had insisted on a word. Jack figured he’d grant one before he got serious.

“General O’Neill.” Woolsey turned away from haranguing Walter, eyed Crichton. “This is…?” Woolsey extended his hand, waiting for an introduction.

“Colonel Jack Crichton. Retired. Flew to the moon back in the day. You know Knox, operations at Canaveral. He’s the Colonel’s son in law. Richard Woolsey, Colonel Crichton.”

Crichton put his hand on Knox’s shoulder, extended the other, and shook Woolsey’s hand. “More than just operations. He’s an engineer. He was working on a theory for faster space travel…” Crichton’s voice trailed off and he gazed down at the Stargate. “Though I guess we don’t need that now.”

“That was a long time ago. Long.” Knox looked pensive for a moment then turned to Woolsey. “What’s your role here, Mr. Woolsey.”

“Mostly he gets in my way,” O’Neill said.

“I keep him honest,” Woolsey said. “International Oversight Advisory. Just what it sounds like. Colonel Knox, I don’t know how much briefing you’ve received.”

“I just came from Florida. I have an inkling.”

“We are under attack.” Woolsey looked at O’Neill like he, O’Neill, was the aliens’ personal escort to Earth. “And I’ve been kept out of the loop.” His expression turned to a glare.

O’Neill put his hand on Woolsey’s shoulder. “Oversight isn’t operations, Richard. You’re not military. You get sick in planes. So make your report. It goes like this: ‘General Jack O’Neill says his team is going to resolve this.’”

“That’s all very vague, General.”

“That’s all whoever signs your paycheck needs to know.” He nodded toward the sentries he’d posted at the stairs. “Richard, feel free to use my office as long as you’d like. I’ll make sure we keep you in ‘the loop’.” He surrounded the last two words with air quotes.

“General, this won’t go unremarked upon.”

“I’m retiring. I don’t care.”

The MPs escorted Woolsey out.

“Sorry about that.”

Jack Crichton crossed his arms over his chest. “I still don’t understand how any of this has to do with us. DK, I get. You sent your team to retrieve us.” He considered Carter and Daniel. “What the hell is going on?”

Carter sighed. “Sir?” she said to O’Neill.

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

 

***

 

 _I think I know…_ She’d had his notebook, still somewhere here at SGC. She’d spent a lot of time here, with Daniel Jackson, O’Neill…But she’d been in bad shape almost the entire time. Was there something she’d dug up, figured out?

_Too many distractions, Johnny boy…_

Aeryn took his hand, sat beside him on the edge of the conference table while both Vala and Sam knelt by the door taking turns at the lock. Jackson stood behind the two women, tapping his foot and glancing between them and John.

He was tired. Tired of this charade, tired of being a pawn—but in making his own destiny...well, he’d pretty much fucked that one up too.

_“You’re in a helluva slump, John.”_

_Harvey’s sitting on John’s other side, John between him and Aeryn._

_“Boring. I don’t need you to tell me that.” He glances at Harvey._

_“You’ve done it before. Once or twice. Remember that deal you made with Scorpius? The one you broke as soon as you had Aeryn Sun in your arms?”_

_John laughs. “Hey, them’s the breaks, man. And I went back and saved his sorry ass. What’s he done for me lately?”_

_“That’s no way to see it. Not at all.”_

What had he told Scorpius?

_I care about one thing. One._

Peacekeepers. Scarrans headed to Earth. Parents, sisters, friends—Aeryn. Her child. The members of SG1 who’d saved both their asses. He couldn’t have the one without all the others falling into place.

Aeryn squeezed his hand then released it. He glanced at her. She nodded toward the door. Vala and Carter scrambled to their feet as the door swung open without preamble, nearly taking Vala out.

Aeryn stood but John remained seated, thumb running over his lips in thought. O’Neill. Carter, another Daniel Jackson, this one dressed in the same black uniform as Carter, and Teal’c. Mitchell and Vala Mal Doran, thankfully, weren’t part of the crew.

Dad. DK. No sign of any other family members.

Jackson stopped when he saw them. Even Teal’c raised an eyebrow as Jackson pointed and counted then turned to Carter. “OK. I’m confused,” he said.

“Carter, how much of a briefing did you give these guys?” O’Neill said.

Both Carters started to say something then the one who’d walked in with them turned to O’Neill. “I didn’t have time for all of it.”

Frelling body switches and duplicates—just another day at the races.

“Let me do it, General.” John pushed away from the table. “Jack,” he said to his father. “I already told you who I am. This is Aeryn Sun.” He pointed to the other three. “That is Vala Mal Doran who is NOT Aeryn Sun. That’s Sam Carter and that…” His finger stopped at Daniel Jackson. “That is Dr. Daniel Jackson. And THAT is my body he’s in.”

Jack Crichton’s face grew redder with each word. He turned to O’Neill. “What is this bullshit?”

“Yeah, _dad_ , I knew you wouldn’t like that.” John stepped forward. “But you were never really good at listening. I told you. I’m John Robert Crichton Jr. I may not be from this reality but I am your son.”

“What did I tell you, DK? He’s a liar.”

“DK! My man!” John held up his hand in a high five. “Ever get the Farscape project off the ground or was that some other DK in some other reality?”

Aeryn grabbed his arm, Sebacean words in his ear telling him to shut the fuck up and calm the fuck down…but he was on a roll.

DK kept his hands at his side. DK had been the quiet one in their relationship, the one who acted as intermediary between the competing egos of John Crichtons Senior and Junior. The guy who admired Jack openly, not grudgingly.

But that was another lifetime.

DK was dead. His wife Laura: Dead. John’s home trashed, his mother in a grave. Olivia left behind to pick up the pieces. His father on the other end of the phone, accepting he fact that he’d never see his grandkids.

A photo attached to the flag on the moon. Jack Crichton with his family. Walking on the moon but thinking of those who were the most important to him—His family.

“’’You’re the heart and soul of my life, son.’ _You_ said that, dad. You. ‘Tell my grandkids about me’, you said.”

Aeryn’s hand firm on his back, supportive. He glanced at her, getting the faintest of nods, a small, encouraging smile. The rest of the room seemed frozen.

His eyes met his father’s.

_“Huzzah, Daddy.” Harvey threw confetti in Jack Crichton’s face._

So close but he never saw it coming. Too fast for Aeryn. Everyone else watching, waiting for his father’s response.

_“Wind-up and the….PITCH!” Harvey, dressed in a blue blazer with a TV network logo on its chest, doing his best sportscaster voice. John glances up, finds himself on the mound in a baseball stadium. A ball barrels toward his face. No time to duck._

The fist connected with his jaw. Just one, huge, pantak jab worthy hit that knocked him on his ass—

_“Ooh!” Harvey’s voice rings out over the gasp from the crowd. “Right in the old noggin! Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk. That’s gonna leave a mark!”_

_Falling, falling, falling…wormhole beneath him, lights starred at points through it, each one trying to call him in—_

He saw nothing. Felt himself spinning. Thought he heard a thud from the other side of the room. He grabbed for something, anything.

“Colonel Knox!”

Every bit of DK’s more considerable bulk than when he was a nerdy scientist had been behind that fist.

He opened his eyes. Vala and Carter knelt on either side of him. Vala slapped him lightly on the face, trying to rouse him. “Daniel. Daniel!”

He blinked, turned his head. Aeryn knelt over Daniel Jackson’s unconscious body. She gazed up at DK like he was going to be next.

“What the frell did you do?” she said.

“Vala, Sam!” He grabbed Vala’s collar, pulled her in. “It’s me. John. Something…I’m _John_.”

_“Annnd…we’re back,” Harvey announces. “Can I get a hell yeah!”_

“John!” Aeryn’s attention was focused on the unconscious man in front of her. “John!” She grabbed the front of Daniel’s shirt and pulled him toward her, shook him once then laid him back down, the shirt still clutched in her hands. “One of you, get a frelling doctor!”

Sam Carter knelt beside Aeryn as Teal’c took O’Neill’s cue and went to the phone on the wall.

“General,” DK began.

“Shut up, Knox.” O’Neill held him by the arm.

Carter pushed him down and leaned toward his chest like she was checking his heartbeat. Vala looked at her from his other side, eyebrows raised in a question.

“Be quiet, both of you,” Carter said. “Vala? Can you do that? John? Remember what I said about getting back to your pod.”

He struggled to sit up, bracing himself with his arms while the others were still gathered around Daniel Jackson.

Vala pushed him down. “Don’t be an idiot. Come on, Daniel. Don’t rush anything—” She nodded at Sam, in on the plan that John was still contemplating.

_The perfect hostage…._

“Give him some space!” Aeryn’s tone was clipped and firm, directed at the group that stood around her and Jackson. “Come on, John. Come on.” She laid her hand on his ches, moved toward his face. “He’s breathing.”

“Colonel Carter, is he all right?” There was a hint of worry in Jack Crichton’s tone.

From the across the room, Daniel’s foot jerked, then both feet scraped the cement floor. The group moved back. Aeryn and the other Carter held Daniel under each arm as his eyes fluttered open. He reached for his glasses.

“Ow…” He glanced at Aeryn. “Aeryn.” He shook his head like a wet dog. “What….” He glanced down at his body, back at Aeryn. “What. Happened.” He turned his attention to John. “We….John?” He shook free of the two women. “What did you do?”

Aeryn glanced between Daniel and John, momentary confusion evident.

John pushed Vala and Carter away and got to his feet. “Baby, it’s me. We’re…back.”

She took one last look at Daniel. He nodded with a smile, then moved toward a chair and sat down.

Vala shrugged. “Sorry, Samantha.”

Aeryn was in his arms, holding him close, her breath warm on his neck. Then she pulled away, her hand snaking down his arm until it found his.

The door opened. Dr. Lam and Teal’c entered, a stretcher behind them with two attendants. “What—? Oh…” She stopped in her tracks: two Jacksons, two Carters, what looked like two Valas…

“General?”

O’Neill glanced at Daniel. He shook his head. “I’m fine. An ice pack would be nice.”

“Sir?” Lam looked like she expected an explanation.

“We’re good, Doctor.” He glanced at John. “You?”

“Fine.”

“See? All good. You can go now.”

“General…”

“You’re dismissed, doctor.”

Lam took one last look at the group then led her team from the room.

Jack Crichton looked at each man in turn, the Daniel Jackson who sat in the chair, with Vala and Carter nearby, then to John who stood on the other side of the room, Aeryn’s hand in his.

“O’Neill, what just happened?” He sounded shaken.

“It’s a really long story,” Daniel rubbed at his jaw.

O’Neill turned to DK. “Not the best of all possible options.” He nodded toward the Carter at his side. “Make sure they’re both okay.”

DK stepped past O’Neill to where John stood. Aeryn moved to stand between them but John caught her arm. “Let it go, Aeryn. If he pops me again, you can kick his ass.” He looked past her at DK. “You don’t want to mess with her, man.”

“Son of a bitch.” DK shook his head. “Who scored higher on the SATs?”

“I did because you cheated.”

DK stepped back, turned to Jack Crichton and the others. The other Carter was fussing over Daniel while Vala hovered nearby. O’Neill gripped Jack’s arm, keeping the old man at bay.

“Jack?” DK said.

“He’s a liar.”

DK turned back to John. “What’s the Farscape project?”

 _Shit_. “A success that started in your physics notebook when we were bored.”

“Success? You _are_ crazy. That thing flamed out. Anyway, it’s pointless now.”

“Maybe, to you, with all this.” He pointed upwards. “But Colonel Carter—either one of them—can back me up. I mean, look at it. There’s two of them, and two Jacksons and… There are other universes and other realities—I’m from the one where I _didn’t_ die.”

_But you did…and mom did…_

“You’re full of shit.”

“Is it really that hard to accept? When you’ve got a base like this? And two of them? And, come on. You must know that Mitchell guy. I look just like him.”

“Then how do I know you’re not a copy of _him_?”

“Well, hell. I don’t know! DNA?” He turned to Carter. “DNA sample. Just take it now, from my dad, from me.”

DK folded his arms over his chest. “What did the notebook look like?”

“What?”

“Before you start sticking Jack with needles, what did the notebook look like?”

John closed his eyes. The Florida sun streaming over his shoulder where he and DK sat at the lab table near the window, DK’s cramped handwriting filling in lines with drawings, then switching with John to write out equations that probably made no sense whatsoever—he knew that now. Pictures of Earth, a giant of a boy holding a slingshot as a small ship flew from its pocket.

Mrs. Sorensen liked to walk around class while she lectured.

“I closed the notebook when I saw her coming toward us.” He opened his eyes, stepped past Aeryn. “Big black letters—M.I.T. right there on the cover. She grabbed it out of my hands and hit me over the head with it.”

“I went to California. Never would have gone to Massachusetts. Too cold.” DK looked him up and down, shook his head. “Then you had to go and die.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Jack said. “DK, you can’t really fall for this bull. John is dead. He died a long time ago…” Jack’s voice trailed off.

John turned to him. Couldn’t find the words.

His father looked like an old man, shoulders bowed, head down. “It’s all crap.”

DK took one step toward John. Aeryn didn’t move to intervene. “I believe you.” DK kept his hands at his side. “Dammit, I believe you.”

 

***

 

The room was quiet. Aeryn took stock: John at her side, DK facing him.

Beyond them sat Daniel Jackson, lips pursed, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was directed at them but didn’t seem focused. Vala was perched on the table, her hand on his shoulder while Samantha Carter stood on his other side.

O’Neill’s team stood near him like they were awaiting orders. No guns drawn, no indication of antagonism but the atmosphere felt like there were guns pointed in all directions, ready to go off.

Jack Crichton had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his windbreaker. His jaw was working like he was chewing on what John had said. On DK’s willingness to believe it.

“Jack. In another life, you saved John. That saved you,” she said. “We were there.”

“Aeryn.” John tightened his hold on her. She shook him off, stepped past him, past DK, to where Jack Crichton stood.

“I met you, in that life.” She stood in front of him. “I met Olivia, shared meals with your family. We celebrated…”

_Walls crashing in, but the distance remained between them, leaving destruction in their wake—_

“Christmas,” she finished.

Jack Crichton raised his head, stared at her. Eyes cold and blue. “Lies.”

“You flew with me to a planet…” She snapped her fingers, tried to recall the name. “Saturn. You walked on Moya, you met our friends. Aliens, all of us. You believed. Why can’t you believe now?”

He looked at her, turned to Vala, then back at her. “And who are you supposed to be? Part of SG1?” He glanced at the General. “O’Neill?”

“Just listen to what she has to say.”

“I’m Aeryn Sun. John’s…” John’s what? Partner, companion…the mother of his child?

_I’m not your husband, I’m not your boyfriend…you can do what you want…_

So long ago.

Jack Crichton was an old man. The wonder in his eyes was dead. While John’s mother wore her loss like a shroud, in his father it was armor. She knew how that fit all too well.

 _I think I know_ …one piece stood before them: Jack Crichton. John’s mother in another room. There were other parts that needed to fall into place.

She glanced at John. He nodded, a small smile of encouragement on his lips. Whatever she said it would be okay. They were okay.

She cleared her throat. Drew herself up, shoulders back. Eyes locked on Jack Crichton. He met her gaze evenly.

“John and I don’t belong here, in this reality. He…I…” She reached her hand back, extended it. Waited until John’s was firmly in her grasp.

“Go ahead,” he whispered in her ear. “Whatever it is, go ahead.”

“I’m his…I’m…” She turned to John. “When I was on the command carrier, I went to see a surgeon...”

He was waiting, his eyes intent on her, head nodding at her silence like she was still talking.

“I was really worried about what the Scarrans did to me. The fetus has been released from its stasis. So we’re having a baby…you and I…It’s yours. I just wanted to tell you…”

The room hummed with questions. DK muttered “oh, boy” with incredulity. John’s mouth twitched into a smile, his hand squeezed hers. Then he grabbed her other hand in his as he pulled her to him.

“We’re having a baby.” He rested his forehead against hers. Splayed his palm on her stomach. “And it’s okay, after all that’s happened?”

She nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

He brushed his lips over hers. “I love you. And when we’re done here, we’re going home to raise our child.”

He pulled away but kept one hand gripped around hers. She turned back toward the group. Vala was smiling widely, nudging Daniel Jackson who seemed not to notice. Then she gave Aeryn a thumbs up.

Jack Crichton shook his head. “I…I don’t believe it. Can’t—”

“It’s fact, _Dad_.” John’s gaze swept the entire room. “I’m not spending the rest of my life here.” He pointed at Carter, Vala and Daniel. “And neither are they.”

Vala pushed herself away from the table, shook Daniel off and strode to where Jack Crichton stood, placing herself between him and Aeryn so he was looking at two of them.

“Colonel?” she said. “Do you believe in second chances?”

 

 

 

 


	12. Shut Your Eyes

“What? Are they ignoring us?” Chiana shook D’Argo’s elbow. “D’Argo?”

He growled and she pulled away. “Just asking a question,” she said.

Was she right? Were they being purposely ignored? Lo’La had fired out the message to their last contact with the Earth general, O’Neill, over an arn ago. No response.

D’Argo had shackled Scorpius with the intent of marching him out onto their tarmac but now the frellnik sat looking smug, like he had all the time in the world.

Had he made the wrong move? Dragging Moya’s crew, following the beacon down a wormhole…landing them here. A military base, well defended he imagined.

Yet…he’d followed instinct and a wormhole to John before, ended up saving his friend’s life. But John had had the good sense to leave Scorpius on Moya. Maybe he should have done the same.

“Well?” Scorpius said.

D’Argo spat on his hands, rubbed them together and smeared the fluids on Lo’La’s controls. That was met with a grimace from Stark and a “disgusting” from Rygel.

“You have no room to complain, your lowness. Chiana.” He wiped the remaining fluids onto his tunic, then reached back, grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him.

“What? D’Argo, what’re you doing?”

He led her to his chair then sat her down. “If this goes bad, I want you to hit this. Then this.” He held her hands in his, her palms hovering over the pertinent controls. Moved each in a deliberate pattern over the console. “Rygel, are you watching?”

“I am,” Stark said.

“Rygel!” D’Argo repeated. “Did you get that?”

“What. Show me again.”

“This. Then this. If they open fire when we walk out, I want you three to get out of here. Those are the controls. Navigation is set back to Moya—”

“No.” Chiana pulled her hands away from his, slid away from the chair and popped up beside him. “No. Uh uh. There is no frelling way I’m flying blind through a wormhole. No way.”

“Chiana. There’s no sense in anything happening to the three of you.”

“I’m not flying it. That simple. And I’m not leaving without you or John or Aeryn or Pilot. That’s why we came down here.”

“Bah!” Rygel said. “Self sacrifice. Since when did you become so noble, Chiana.”

Stark did the honors and smacked Rygel on the side of the head. “Oh…Apologies, Dominar. That was purely incidental.”

Rygel rubbed his head, glared at Stark then turned back to D’Argo. “Self sacrifice aside, I doubt this no eyed tralk would be able to fly this through a wormhole. We could end up somewhere else entirely. Destroyed!” He spread his little arms as widely as he could. “I have to agree with the girl. I’d rather take my chances here than there.”

“Stark?” He’d might as well get everyone’s opinion.

He nodded solemnly. “They’re right, D’Argo.”

Scorpius held out his hands. “As we appear to be in agreement…”

“No. That part of the plan stays.” He reached for the controls.

The invisibility cloak peeled away. It was like they’d set off a bomb. The array came alive with warnings: Approaching soldiers and vehicles. Then a voice over the comms.

“This is a United States government facility. Any aggression will result in equal force.”

He hit the comm, grateful he’d taken the time to learn their language. “I am Ka D’Argo, captain of this vessel. I have in my custody the commander of one of the forces attacking your planet.” He ignored the joyful shout from Chiana. “We surrender him to your custody.” He paused. “In exchange for contact with General Jack O’Neill.”

The other link was quiet. Rygel hovered over to him, then they both stared out the portal. “Well. You’ve certainly gained their attention.”

Outside, troops had brought in a weapon mounted on a vehicle, troops with guns aimed at them. He could have easily destroyed the entire detachment in an instant. But that wasn’t the plan.

Even in the distance, he saw the man who appeared to be in charge. He was talking into a radio, nodding. D’Argo squinted, leaned in toward the portal.

 _What in hezmana_ —he shook his head quickly, like he could shake sense into it. That was crazy. Impossible.

He took another look at his friends: Chiana, bouncing on the balls of her feet at the idea of pitching Scorpius to the humans. Rygel, his little hands held against his tunic as he hovered near the control console. Stark, clear eyed, nodding his encouragement

Then he heard it. Ancient Luxan, followed by the Luxan call to arms. Whether it was a battle or a communique, the command always involved the Luxan call to arms.

“What the frell is that?” Rygel slid away from the console like it would explode.

“Communications.” He stepped toward the console, hit the control. The message was as clear as if the man was standing behind him.

“This is Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. What the hell are you doing on my planet?”

“Tell him, D’Argo. We want our friends and then we get the frell out. We’ll even take leather face with us.”

He glanced outside through the targeting visor for a better look. The troops had taken an offensive position, weapons aimed. The man in charge wore a vest of some sort, weapons, communicator…He couldn’t be sure. The man’s face left him with one question.

“John?” he said.

 

***

 

 

 

Jack O’Neill had sent Knox and Jack Crichton back to their guest quarters, this time under the auspices of someone other than a member of SG1.

The old man hadn’t said much. The whole thing looked like it had knocked the wind out him. Knox had argued but not for long.

“Your family needs you, Colonel,” was all O’Neill had said before nodding Knox out of the room with his father in law.

Crichton, Sun on one side, her hand gripped firmly around his. Crichton looked bemused. Sun…well, she’d turned death stare up to one hundred.

Mal Doran, Daniel, Carter, the remaining members of his own team…they were looking at him expectantly.

“What?” he said. “You think I have an answer to that bombshell?

“Ball’s in your court, Jack,” Daniel said. Vala kept touching his arm in a familiar way, with Daniel making no move to shake her off.

“Carter?”

Both Samantha Carters turned to him, then to each other. One nodded to the other, and his Sam stepped up. “Jack, I think she knows more about this situation than I do.” She pointed to her doppelgänger.

“You trust her?”  

Sam nodded. “You did.” She turned to the other Carter. “You’re up.”

“Go, Sam!” Vala cheered her on, then gave O’Neill a wide, sarcastic smile when he glared at her.

“Well?” he said. “What words of wisdom do you have for me, Carter?”

“Just what they’ve said said all along.” She pointed to Crichton and Sun. “You understand it now, sir. What needs to happen.”

“I already sent Cam to Area 51,” his Carter said.

“That’s a start. Sir, we need our Cam and Teal’c off the Prometheus and down here with the rest of us. The rest of us—” She pointed to herself, her team, John, Aeryn. “We have to recreate whatever happened to get us all here.”

“You realize it’s not that easy, right,” Jack said. “No matter how much quantum physics you throw at me, Carter. It’s not magic. You know it isn’t. You five, these two—”

Crichton glanced at Sun, got a nod from her. “You believe me now,” he said. “You believe that I’m John Crichton, that I’m not supposed to be here. You have facilitate getting this thing right. Carter —hell, either of them—can do the math. You need to move the pieces.”

O’Neill let his gaze rest on John Crichton. He would’ve connected him to Mitchell in a heartbeat but Jack Crichton? No. Not without convincing.

Yet…

_“Colonel, do you believe in second chances?”_

She might as well have been talking to him.

Son allegedly returned from the dead. O’Neill could see exactly why Jack Crichton had been so floored.

He’d had his chance, had had his good-bye. Had forgiven himself. When all was said and done, that was exactly the situation that presented itself to Jack Crichton.

“Yeah. I believe you. But that doesn’t make my getting things the way they’re supposed to be any easier.” He turned to Sam. “Get Harriman on the line. See if he can get the Prometheus patched in.”

His Carter nodded. Got on the phone, spoke a few words, then turned to him. “Sir? Chief Harriman reports contact with Area 51. It sounds like there’s a…” she paused, gaze sweeping the people who didn’t belong. “A ship, sir. And its occupants want to talk to you.”

 

***

 

“What the frell are you talking about?” Chiana tugged on his arm.

The other voice came through the comm. D’Argo squinted at it like that would improve his hearing.

“’Ka D’Argo, we will open fire if you don’t come out of there with hands up.”

He heard it—more of a lilt than John, maybe a higher timbre, but John’s inflections were lurking in there.

Chiana hit him again, nodded her chin toward the portal even though she couldn’t see a thing.

“Crichton,” Stark said. “Can it be? No. No, no, no. It can’t.”

“Frellniks.” Rygel slid to the comms. Held out a hand with reluctance then hit the comm. “We wish to speak to General O’Neill, not an underling. This is Dominar Rygel XVI of the Hynerian Empire.”

No response. D’Argo glanced out, saw the troops still in formation. He could cloak the ship, hit the troops before they could respond. Obliterate—

“Mitchell. You have my position. I can open fire and wipe out the battalion in an instant. Ask Aeryn. She’s with your general. She’ll tell you.”

D’Argo kept his eyes on the troops. Their commander raised his arm, fist up, then lowered it. The guns lowered in response.

“Let’s talk, not shoot,” the man who sounded like John said. “Open up your ship. We’re comin’ in.”

 

 

***

 

“They did it. They’re here.” Aeryn grasped his hand, pulled him closer to her as they straggled to the control room behind O’Neill, Carter…Carter, Mal Doran…the list was growing and John was done keeping track.

“You think it’s D’Argo? What if it’s Peacekeepers or Scarrans—”

She shook her head. Certain he was wrong. The burden was off her shoulders and it showed—confident, ready to take on whatever challenges lay before them.

_I saw a surgeon. On the command carrier—_

He did care, after all. Cared that she needed to know. Understood that maybe that was what she’d needed all along. Had he sown enough doubt that she’d wondered if he’d still want her if the baby hadn’t been his?

_Dumb, dummy…._

_“Focus, daddy!” Harvey holds out two cigars, one ringed in pink, one in blue. “Such a pedestrian culture you have. Two colors when there’s such a spectrum! Especially for you and Aeryn.”_

_They were on a golf course. Plaid pants, spiked shoes. Harvey topped with a golf cap, a little puff of yarn at its crown._

_“Shut up.” He lines up his shot. Terrible golfer. It hadn’t been his dad’s thing, sure hadn’t been his._

_“Golf is an introvert’s game,” Harvey says. “It requires singular focus. The crowd barely breathes. It’s you, the club, the ball. The course is clear…for now.”_

_“You’re talking too much.” John kneels down. Leans forward. Gazes down the shaft of the club. Eye of the needle. Thread it through the air, onto the green._

_“Sometimes you have to rethink your game,” Harvey says. “You’re still in the rough.”_

_“If this is your idea of an analogy, make your point.”_

_“Look up.”_

_He glances up. Thunderheads crackling with electricity. In the middle of a golf course with a lightning rod in his hand._

_“Shit.”_

_“You can’t do this alone. So you get to your pod? You only got here because Pilot helped to guide you. You take its readings. Then what? You can’t collapse the wormhole without Pilot” He pinches his thumb and forefinger together. “Infinitesimal, John! Your time frame, and your chances of success here or there.”_

_Eyes closed, John puts three fingers to his forehead…_

_“Read the middle finger, Harvey…” He stands up. Pitches the club at Harvey like a disgruntled John Daly._

_“John?” Aeryn takes the club from Harvey. No golf fashion for his girl, no. It’s Aeryn in all her leather glory, looking like she’ll kick ass and take names._

_“Cheating!” Harvey stomps his foot, loses his balance when a spike gets stuck in the soft grass. “Two against one. Not fair.”_

_John sidles up to Aeryn, doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t talk. Blocks out any other words Harvey has for him._

_She lines up her shot, swings. Hole in one then she pivots and tosses the club to him._

“John!” Aeryn nodded toward the group in front of them, O’Neill staring holes into him, the rest looking at him like varying degrees of crazy.

“Crichton?” O’Neill opened the door.

Beyond him was movement—people, computer terminals, screens running data. He followed the group inside, glanced out the glass. The Stargate, inert, one huge ring that looked like some kind of carnival ride. A wormhole of its own making…

How did they do it when it was almost torture for him? A portal, one place to another…

“Colonel Mitchell,” O’Neill had taken his place alongside the Radar O’Reilly looking operator. “What now?”

John turned to Aeryn. “Mitchell?” He pointed upwards. “ _That_ Mitchell?”

She shrugged, did a half shake of her head. “I don’t know. Maybe the other?”

“Aeryn,” he whispered. “When we get there, when we get to the pod…I don’t think it’s just me anymore.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Einstein. You. Harvey…I think it’s not just me.”

“I don’t understand. And if this has anything to do with ‘Harvey’, I don’t know why you listen.”

He closed his eyes.

_Harvey pouts, shakes his head. “You’re on your own.”_

“Crichton!” O’Neill sounded exasperated. “Crichton. You’re getting your wish.” He pointed at Carter, Daniel and Vala. “And you’re going with them.”

 

***

 

D’Argo had Scorpius at the top of the steps, still cuffed, and held in front of him like a shield. The half breed hadn’t flinched and seemed resigned to being their hostage.

The hatch was open behind him—Chiana, Rygel, then Stark. D’Argo wasn’t about to leave Rygel to his own devices so Chiana held tightly onto the thronesled.

At the foot of the stairs stood Cameron Mitchell, a squadron of armed troops behind him. Arms folded over his chest, he looked up at them.

“Wow, he said. “Ka D’Argo?”

D’Argo nodded. Chiana crowded in behind him, strained her head forward like it would do something for her vision.

“It’s not….”

“No. Not John.” He glanced down. “Mitchell. This is Scorpius, commander of the Peacekeeper army. He’s yours for the taking.”

“Whoa.” Mitchell held up a hand. “Not so fast there. Our orders are to take all of you into custody. We’ll sort it out later.”

The group behind D’Argo moved backwards while D’Argo reached with his free hand for his Qualta blade.

“Stand down,” Mitchell said. “Look, we are all in this together. You don’t know half of what’s going on. It’s just better for everyone if we’re all in one place. So. Like they say on the price is right…’come on down!’”

D’Argo glanced back at Chiana who shrugged. Rygel shook his head with a groan. “Are all men who look like Crichton destined to speak gibberish?” he said.

“My ship,” D’Argo said.

“Ships is more like it.” Mitchell craned his neck toward the module tethered to Lo’La. “Looks like a dog. This one, on the other hand….” He gazed up at Lo’La, reached out and touched the steps like they were precious metal. “Not bad. So make your way down here. We won’t mess with them.”

“Do as he says,” Scorpius said. “And uncuff me.”

“One thing at a time.” D’Argo nudged Scorpius and they started down the steps.

 

***

 

 

Mitchell led them through a series of buildings. He’d left troops posted at the foot of the ship with instructions not to board either. His men had taken control of Scorpius, also not bothering to remove the cuffs D’Argo had placed on him.

The rest of them remained unrestrained but there were enough guns surrounding them to ensure that there’d be no reasonable expectation of survival if they tried to escape.

“Where are we?” D’Argo said. “And where’s General O’Neill?”

“You’re at a United States military facility.” He glanced at D’Argo. “Gotta say. We don’t get to run into too many aliens who look like you.” He looked at the rest of them. “Any of you. You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Earth? No.”

“This galaxy, is what I mean.”

For a human, he didn’t seem very impressed with the array of races in front of him. Not like the humans they’d met with John. The same ones who’d questioned them, studied them…had treated them like not much more than laboratory animals.

Mitchell didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway. General O’Neill wants you comfortable until we can make additional plans.”

“Plans? The only plan I have is to get our friends and get out of here. I followed a beacon here.”

Mitchell nodded. “Yeah. We figured. Your other ship.” He stopped at a door that had a small window, motioned to two of the guards. They took Scorpius without any struggle, put him inside the room and locked the door.

Chiana sniffed the air. “Where’d he go?” she said in English.

Mitchell smiled. “Do you all speak English?”

“Not all,” D’Argo said. He motioned toward Stark. “But the other three of us have been here before.”

“You three.” He shook his head. “Not _here_ , my friend.”

_These people—they’re not what we knew. They have weapons. Ships._

“Where are we?”

“Well. Earth. After that…well, I’m not sure I have the whole story straight myself. I just know that ‘John Crichton’” Mitchell motioned with the fingers of both hands. “That son of a bitch looks like me. And there’s a duplicate of everyone on my team.” He clapped his hand on D’Argo’s back. “So, until Carter and your friends get here, all of us are in limbo. We might as well make ourselves comfortable.”

 

 

***

 

It had been more difficult leaving Stargate Command than John would have thought. His family was in its bowels, dad and DK left to ponder over what they’d heard.

Would they explain it to the rest of the family? Save him the trouble? It was the coward’s way but that was the best he could muster for now.

Once again, he was news blind—attacks on Florida, any others…he had no idea.

O’Neill had sent them here in good ol’ fashioned choppers. Assured them it was the least likely thing to get them noticed. Another gamble, John supposed. At least it had paid off.

They landed and disembarked onto a roof top. Followed a set of stairs into a cavernous hangar. It was difficult to see the extent of security though John had no doubt of its existence. Since they’d returned to Earth, they’d had nothing but security.

“This doesn’t exist in my time line.” He and Aeryn followed Carter, Vala, and Jackson through the hangar, past ships that he didn’t recognize, something that could have been weaponry but mostly things that looked like regular USAF.

“It might and you just wouldn’t know it,” Jackson said.

“We were on Earth. My Earth. Me. Aeryn. Our friends. Ships.” _Skreeths, lions and tigers and bears_ —“Don’t you think Area 51 would have been the perfect place for us?”

The pit of his stomach burned, his missteps and mistakes and miscalculations consuming him. Wormhole calculations crawling up his arm and down his thigh.

It had all come to rest here, in a place he’d never been but one that he couldn’t abandon. He’d led them all here—He and Aeryn and Pilot. D’Argo, Chi…Peacekeepers. Scarrans.

“Do we know….” Did he want to know? “Sam. Do you know what’s happening out there?”

Carter shook her head. “We need to focus here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Aeryn touched his arm. “She’s right, John. There’s nothing we can do from here.”

Carter and Co. led them through another hallway to a set of doors. MPs stood outside. They nodded when they saw Carter then opened the doors.

Across a tarmac to another building, bigger than the last, through another set of doors.

It wasn’t USAF. The ships in this hangar were alien to him, nothing from the uncharted territories.

Beyond that, three ships he never thought he’d be happier to see.

“Lo’La.” Aeryn breathed the word out.

Lo’La. The Farscape module tethered to her. And, past that, the pod. Battered and scarred but in one piece.

And beyond that, Cameron Mitchell with D’Argo, Chiana, Stark and Rygel. Chiana bolted past the others, went airborne as she flung herself at him and landed in his arms. She reached out, grabbed Aeryn and enveloped them both.

“Pip!” He buried his face in her hair. “Pip.”

“Not bad for a nixa with no eyes, right? I’d know your smell anywhere.” Her hand wandered to Aeryn’s face. “You’re here. You’re alive. Aeryn…the narl…?”

“It’s okay, Chi. The baby’s okay.” She clasped her hand over Chiana’s.

“Pilot…”

John glanced at Aeryn, grateful Chiana couldn’t see the expression on her face. Aeryn cleared her throat. “He….we…we couldn’t save him. I’m sorry.”

Chiana sagged in John’s arms. “No…”

“We’re bringing him back with us.” John hugged her closer.

“He’d want that.” She nodded, pulled away. “Who else is here? That guy, that Colonel. They say he looks just like you, Crichton.”

“And speaks as much gibberish.” Rygel, D’Argo and Stark had joined them. John glanced at Carter and her group who looked on with fascination.

“This is our crew. Our family,” Aeryn said. “Chiana. D’Argo. Rygel. Stark.” She pointed at each in turn. “Colonel Carter, Daniel Jackson, and Vala Mal Doran.”

“Ugh.” Rygel put a hand to his head. “Another you, Aeryn? What is this world made of?”

“Strange things are happening, Ryg.” John turned to D’Argo. “How the hell did you guys get here?”

“The beacon. Like when we locked onto you through the wormhole. So now that we’re here, we take Pilot, we take our ships and we get out. Moya’s on the other side with Noranti and Sikozu, waiting for us.”

“Yeah. Not so fast.” John glanced at Carter. “We have to close the wormhole.”

“John, that is not our problem—”

“Yes, it is,” Aeryn said. “You can see this isn’t the same place we’ve been before.”

“Earth is Earth,” Rygel said. “So what. If it isn’t the same, there’s no danger to your family, Crichton. And certainly more danger to us if we stay.” He glanced back at Mitchell, then eyed the rest of the team with suspicion. “This is a military base. They didn’t like us before, and they will certainly bear us no love now.”

“It’s not that easy, Rygel.” He turned to D’Argo. “You came through the wormhole? Don’t you think everyone else can too? They’ve already been attacked.”

D’Argo folded his arms over his chest, looked like he was going to be implacable. Stark tapped the side of his mask while Rygel harrumphed and grumbled.

Chiana situated herself between Aeryn and him, one arm around each of them. “Scorpy,” she said.

“Where is that lying sack of…”

“Locked up.” Mitchell stepped forward, took a stance similar to D’Argo’s. “Seemed like the thing to do.” He looked John up and down then turned to Sam Carter and her team. “Vala Mal Doran. Can’t believe they brought you.”

“Not the same one,” Daniel said. “We’re not your team, Mitchell.”

“Yeah, figured that. So, now that we’re all in one place…Kind of.” He glanced up at the ships. “The general wants these new ships examined for weapons.”

D’Argo growled under his breath. “Of course it has weapons. I told you it had weapons.” He turned to Mitchell. “Did you think I was bluffing?”

“D, yo,” John said. “Give it a rest. We need to work with these guys not piss them off. Colonel Mitchell.” He pointed at Lo’La. “That one has weapons. Big ones. The rest…” He shook his head. “That little one is Earth based technology, circa my universe. That’s the thing that got me started on this whole adventure.”

“And that other one is their pod.” Daniel turned to Aeryn. “Teal’c and I were studying it when we were pulled away to find you.”

“So now that we’re all on the same page, Mitchell, here’s where we stand.” John turned to his friends. “What’s Scorpy up to?”

“Nothing good,” D’Argo said.

“How about something more specific.”

“Peacekeepers,” Rygel said. “That fekkik made sure to be with us so that he could direct his vendetta against the Scarrans here on Earth.”

Aeryn rocked on her heels for a moment, nodded her head. “Which is exactly what I told General O’Neill would happen. Scorpius aside.”

John turned to Mitchell. “So in case the urgency isn’t apparent, you’ve got two forces bearing down on your planet that want to annihilate each other.”

“D’Argo.” Chiana pulled away, let her nose lead her to D’Argo. “That’s why we came here, remember. It wasn’t just for John and Aeryn and Pilot. We had to warn them.”

“They’re warned.” But he looked like his resolve was fading.

“Maybe this isn’t where we were before, and John isn’t worried about his family anymore. But it’s still Earth.”

“You’re wrong there, Pip,” John said. “They’re here. My family. All of them and then some. DK. Mom. I brought this crap here and I’m going to get rid of it. One way or another.”

 

***

 

All there—her friends. Family. They’d risked their lives for her, daring a rescue from a Scarran freighter that she would have deemed impossible. No less than she herself had done and would have done again.

Been with her at her worst, seen her at her best. All of them now in this place that existed in a wormhole.

Earth.

D’Argo and John still argued over the merits of trusting or not trusting Scorpius, leaving or staying, while Mitchell and Sam Carter tried to mediate. Daniel gazed up at the pod, Vala at his side.

She pulled away from the group, past John, the rest. Past Daniel and Vala, up the steps to the open hatch and into the pod.

One light blinked on the console, barely discernible. She palmed it off, watched it fade. They were all here now, no need for further communications.

The seats she and John had occupied. Behind them, dried fluid. The smells filled her nostrils. Their own perspiration. Pilot’s fluids but not decay. Familiar smells, none of it anything like Earth

“Oh, Pilot.” She reached out, steadied herself against the console. Closed her eyes.

_I still carry remnants of your DNA…_

It wasn’t enough. Not enough to have taken his place here, left him where he belonged. The remnants she carried were so much a part of her there’d be no way to discern the differences.

“Aeryn?”

Daniel, not John, not any of the others. Daniel was the last person here to have been in this ship.

She turned, her back pressed against the console. Buried the instinct to fight him, like that would bring back something she’d lost. Like it was his fault.

“Aeryn.” He held out his hand. “I’ll take you to him.”

 

***

She followed Daniel down the steps. Vala waited below, hip cocked, arms folded over her chest but she avoided Aeryn’s gaze.

The others looked at her with varying degrees of pity…then John stepped past the others.

“Aeryn.” He eyed Jackson with suspicion. “I want to go with you.”

She shook her head. “You and Colonel Carter need to go over the readings. I…I want to do this alone.”

“It’s my fault—”

She sliced her hand through the air like it could cut his words in two. “It’s _our_ fault. I owe him.”

D’Argo pulled on John’s arm. “Do as she says.”

“For once,” Rygel added.

 

***

 

Daniel was quiet as she walked alongside him through a maze of passageways and locked doors. Was Scorpius behind one of these?

The idea of joining with the Peacekeepers wasn’t complete anathema to her. It hadn’t been when Scorpius had proposed it. He’d saved her life; she wasn’t stupid or naive enough to believe that those actions had been out of kindness. She’d just been one more pawn, one more step to John.

But now they were here, on Earth. Scorpius had no way of really knowing what Earth this was; the minutiae of their lives had never been his forte. And now he had the entire planet at his disposal.

Or so he thought.

This facility. Their ships. The beam they’d used to transport them from one place to another. The Stargate. General O’Neill himself didn’t seem cowed by the prospect of Scarrans or Peacekeepers.

Their technology, so much different than John’s.

Her body was free from pain—bone mended, cuts, scrapes, bruises all gone, not even a scar. The baby without any repercussions. Safe. All due to technology she hadn’t even known existed.

Daniel came to a stop at a set of double doors with small, rectangular windows in each one. Through that small opening, she saw a long corridor, bright, overhead lights—a hospital like those they’d seen while on Earth, undergoing their examinations.

He reached for the door handle; her hand covered his before he could open the door.

“This is a hospital,” she said.

He turned to her, looked down for a moment like he was gathering this thoughts, then looked at her again.

“Yes.”

“Is he alive?” The prospect hadn’t even occurred to her before. He was barely alive when they’d gone through the wormhole.

“I don’t know.”

He turned toward the door again. She grabbed his shoulder—he winced.

“You said you and Teal’c were on our pod before —Did you see him then?”

“No.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I had no idea if he was alive, dead, or somewhere in between. I couldn’t give you false hope…”

She released him. Nodded. “Open the door.”

He did so and led her in.

 

***

 

 

Med techs— _Doctors_ , she reminded herself—buzzed around the table on which Pilot lay. Tubes had been inserted into his arms, bags of fluid at the other ends. He was pale but not ashen.

It looked like the humans had cabled numerous surgical tables together to accommodate his size. The machinery was much like what she’d found herself attached to after getting to the Prometheus.

“Wow,” Daniel said. “The pictures didn’t do him justice.”

She swallowed hard. Wanted to break down—in relief, in fear—she couldn’t even be certain.

“Dr. Jackson!” One of of the doctors approached them, offering her hand to Daniel, who shook it with an uncertain smile like he wasn’t sure he knew this woman or not. The woman looked at Aeryn quizzically.

“Aeryn Sun,” Daniel said. “Can you give me the status of this, um…patient?”

“It’s alive. That much I know for certain. It’s breathing, we think we have a heartbeat. We’ve not been able to wake him up.” She glanced back at the makeshift bed. “I’m not 100% sure we want to.”

“He’s harmless,” Aeryn said.

The doctor turned to her, eyebrows raised. “You know this how?”

“She…she came here with him. He’s their…her…he’s the navigator. Pilot.” He turned to Aeryn. “That’s what he’s called, right?”

She nodded. “What are you doing to him?”

“Pushing fluids. After that, we didn’t know what to do with him.”

Aeryn pushed past Daniel and the doctor. Shouldered past the other attendants.

“Aeryn?” Daniel said.

“Pilot.” She slipped into her own language. “Pilot, please. It’s Aeryn. I’m sorry. So sorry. I know you’re alive, I don’t know if you can hear me. Please wake up.”

How many times had she revived him, literally kick-started him? She took one of his claws in her hand, stroked it. Life pulsed through it but it was faint.

Fluids…he’d lost fluids in the pod. She extended her arm, turned to Daniel. “Fluid—DNA. Something. I have his DNA.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

“You…you fixed me. She did. The other one. We would be able to save him. He’s still alive.”

He nodded with her words, looked like he was in agreement. “If we can…what then. How do we keep him alive? How did you keep him alive?”

“Our pod is made from the ship…look, we’ll work it out. You have a way to heal him and we need to do that. Now.”

 

 

***

 

The interior of the pod had survived a little better than the exterior. The fact that the whole thing hadn’t disintegrated, that they hadn’t all ended up dead was probably more of a surprise.

_No, just ONE of you ended up dead—_

He shook the thought away and sat in his chair to the left of the rudder. Carter took a walk around, running her hands over the walls, the consoles, everything. She was like a little kid.

“You two flew this—” She ran her fingers over the markings on the walls then stepped back, her hands on her hips.

“Three. There were three of us and we couldn’t have done it without him.” He leaned back in the chair. So much loss. No matter what Aeryn said, he was the one who’d put them in this situation. Pilot knew the stakes but he’d been the screw up, his own selfishness clouding his thinking.

It always did.

“John?” Carter stood in front of him. “Can you get it started?”

“Aeryn. Aeryn should be here.” Instead she was someplace else, she and Daniel Jackson and Pilot. He shouldn’t have let her go without him, should have insisted—

“John? I don’t see her around here. Do you? Don’t give me your BS about not knowing how this thing works.”

He was stalling. Fear was always the answer—what if the damned thing didn’t work? He reached over, triggered the ignition…

Carter steadied her hand on his shoulder as the pod rocked beneath them. “That was…that was it. It works.”

Then the power died and the pod settled like an old guy sinking into a chair. “Worked,” John said. “Maybe in idle and we can listen to American Top 40…” He flipped another switch.The space in front of him flared with light.

“That’s…?” Carter pointed at the screen that lit up the console.

Fast moving coordinates, too many for him to take in. “Pilot’s coordinates. Our way to close the wormhole. I wasn’t fast enough to close it without him, to make the calculations necessary…he didn’t want to come with us, not really. But he did it because he’s not a selfish bastard. Probably did it more for Aeryn than me, that’s for sure.”

“You can feel sorry for yourself when this is all over.” Carter backed away from him and sat in the other chair. Her hands hovered over the controls like she was trying divine where to start. “In the meantime, we need to fix this thing. Agreed?”

“Yeah.”

“When we came through the Stargate and ended up here, our destination was P3X9726.”

“And that is…?”

Carter shook her head. “A planet. Just a random planet. The other Carter…” She paused. “Yeah. We think if we can see what readings you had, compare to what happened with the gate when my team came through, maybe we can recreate the conditions—”

John laughed. He couldn’t help himself. It bubbled out of him, crazed, high pitched, like he was stoned. It was all funny, one cosmic joke with him as the punchline.

She reached across, punched him on the arm. “Get a grip.”

“No. Seriously. You’re dreaming if you think you can recreate this. The best we can hope for is to kill as many Scarrans as possible, form an alliance with the Peacekeepers—”

“So that’s it. Giving up, huh?”

Both of them turned to the voice. Chiana stood at the doorway, gripping the edges with both hands. D’Argo stood behind her, arms over his chest.

“Pip. I told you I wasn’t good enough.”

“Shut the frell up, huh? She—” Chiana nodded chin in Carter’s general direction. “She’s some kind of genius, right? That’s what they said out there. So work with her and get us home.”

“You guys are welcome to go through that wormhole any ol’ time, Chi. No one told you to come out here in the first place.”

“John,” D’Argo began.

“Uh-uh, Crichton. Everything needs to go back to how it was—”

“Right.” He hopped off the chair. “And how’s that gonna happen? You’re blind. Pilot’s dead—”

“Shut up and close the frelling wormhole. That nixa out there who looks like Aeryn, but talks way more, thinks that she can do something. For Pilot. For me. Don’t know that she has any cure for crazy so you’re out of luck.”

He turned to Sam but she looked as gobsmacked as he felt. For Pilot. The idea that Pilot was alive, could be healed wasn’t something he’d even wanted to hope for.

Carter hit her radio. “Cam. It’s Carter. We’ve got some readings in here I want sent to Carter at SGC stat.”

Mitchell’s voice fuzzed through her speaker. “I’ll get the techs on it.”

She nodded like he could see her. “Good.” Finger off the radio, she turned to John. “I got an idea.”

 

***

 

 

Vala was the center of attention. Normally that would have been welcome but not now. Not when there were seven (eight if you counted Mitchell and she wasn’t really sure she wanted to do that yet) people staring at her, all with expectation in their eyes.

“So?” Sam said. “It’s doable, right?”

“You said you could.” The little grey girl glided toward her, hands out and around Vala’s collar before Vala could move, very fast for a girl who couldn’t see. “If you’re frelling with us—”

Vala pushed her away. “I said maybe I could. And I’m not ‘frelling’ with anything.” She reached into her jacket pocket, slid the device onto her palm. “You first,” she said to the girl.

Daniel’s mouth twisted in such a way that made her think he was trying to keep a smile in check. “How did you get your hands on that? Vala? It was locked up.”

“I gave it to her,” Sam said. “Not that I thought for a moment we’d actually need to use it but…”

“It doesn’t always work.” Mitchell stepped toward the group. “Jackson…you _do_ know it doesn’t always work.”

Vala held the device up to the girl. She pushed Vala’s hand away. “No. Uh-uh. I don’t want to use up Pilot’s only chance.”

“You won’t,” Daniel said.

The grey girl shook her head. “Nope. Heal Pilot. Then maybe.”

“What does he mean?” Vala nodded towards Mitchell. “Daniel?”

“It’s nothing. And, no, it doesn’t always work. But why not at least try.”

 

***

 

She hadn’t liked the sound of that at all. The look on Daniel’s face—closed, tight…what had she missed?

She’d healed him when she’d shot him but his injuries had been minor. The Ori had killed those she’d healed in the village, had killed Mitchell himself. This Mitchell wouldn’t have known anything about that.

_What have I missed, Daniel? Fifty years of their future, how many years of his past…_

She shook the thought away; it didn’t matter at this moment. No, at this moment, she was standing in a room that reminded her of that movie…ET? Scientists and doctors surrounding a dying outer space creature, waiting to cut him up.

The thought made her shudder. Daniel noticed, put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered.

His tone warm, confident in her abilities. When she turned to glance at him, his eyes were on Aeryn Sun—again. What was he trying to figure out out there?

The creature in front of her wasn’t ET. It wasn’t anything she’d seen before. Massive, multi-armed, a head that was almost as wide as the grey girl was tall. Pilot? The one that had traveled with John Crichton and Aeryn Sun in that little pod. The one who was part of Aeryn’s bargain —all had to be right: John, Pilot.

What would happen if she failed?

Aeryn’s attention was focused on Pilot, John’s on Aeryn. She stood at the side of the table, stroking one of the Pilot’s…claws? Not hands, not human by any measure at all, other than two eyes and what looked like a mouth.

The others—their friends—were looking at Vala. The big one, glaring. The little one in the floating device had one small hand over his forehead, the other over his heart. The masked one stood nearby, chin cupped in his palm while his fingers tapped his mask. His gaze darted between her and Aeryn-back and forth, back and forth. He looked insane.

Carter and Mitchell ushered the doctors out with minimal protest, closed the double doors, and stood in front of them as a barricade.

“You ready?” Daniel said.

She nodded. Daniel took her free hand, led her to the table-side opposite John and Aeryn. John gave her a curt smile, and a nod, but Aeryn was still focused on Pilot.

The device fit her palm like it was always meant to be there. Even if she did bring him back, would it be enough to keep him alive?

It had worked on Aeryn, had worked on the villagers but for the Ori…

Out of the corner of her eye, Vala saw Aeryn step back as the energy glowed from the device. She kept it aimed at what she assumed was his heart.

Her blood raced through her body, Nacquadah fueling the device. She closed her eyes, steadied her breathing. _An entire village—you healed an entire village…_

Her heart rate picked up like she was running for her life. Daniel stood behind her, both hands braced against her back like he was holding her up.

“Vala. Are you okay?”

Her head pounded.

_Dead villagers surrounded her. One lived, another died. Over and over and over. She’d raped their planet, abused their kindnesses…and she couldn’t heal them._

A murmur of voices filled the room, indistinguishable from the ringing in her ears. Blood beating against her eardrums. Her body like a giant string being plucked, sound vibrating from her core to her head. Deaf, blind, the only light the one linking the device to the pilot.

“I…I think I’m gonna be sick.” The words fell from her mouth as her hand fell to her side. The device slipped from her palm, clattering to the floor with her alongside it.

 

 


	13. Line of Fire

“Captain! I have a secured transmission.”

The communications lieutenant turned to Braca from her place at the console. He nodded, left her in charge of command and moved toward the captain’s private salon.

He’d been waiting for this, had no doubt of who it was. He slipped his hand onto the scanner.

“Captain Braca.” Scorpius’ image hovered over the console filled with interference and static. “It’s time. Retrieve Sikozu and proceed with the plan.”

The image ended as quickly as it had began. No need for embellishment or inspirational words. The mission was enough.

He changed the coordinates on the console and locked them in. Dispatched a Marauder as directed. Alarms sounded through the cruiser—battle stations.

When he returned to command, the crew stood at the ready, all of them turned toward him.

“Lieutenant, cast a wide net with our signal. Make sure the Scarrans receive the message. ”

She looked dubious but nodded, knowing well enough not to question an order. “Yes, Captain.”

“I want a complement of shielded Prowlers going through the wormhole with us. Lieutenant, focus on the signal.”

He saw it—fear, questions, awe.

“We’re about to embark on a mission to save our people. If you want to kill a snake, you have to cut off its head. That is what we will do. You will be heroes. Your names written in the annals of our history. Our people will remember our names.” He pointed a finger forward.

“Onward.”

 

***

 

"War Minister! We've intercepted their signal. Peacekeepers!"

"Send me the readings." No risk was too great. Ahkna had studied strategy as soon as she'd raised herself up to walk. High born, the elite, expected to lead once her father was dead. She had a duty to the rest of her caste. And as she sat eating crystherium, feeling her mind expand, she knew risk was part of leadership.

What would her father have said of Pennoch? Lower caste, warrior class. Her father, for all his wisdom, had never found it relevant to see below. He’d sought to inspire the love of all like a god. That failure had ultimately led to his downfall and her current situation.

She fingered the controls on her console, studied the readings. All the ships she'd sent down the wormhole had lost contact with her. Pennoch, the others.

Then this new signal. Peacekeepers, had moved from the Scarran boundaries toward the wormhole? It hadn’t made sense to her. What was the lure of the wormhole? John Crichton? Earth? It seemed a waste of resources…yet. She had to know what Scorpius was up to.

Scorpius! The half breed with his irrational hate of his Scarran father. Had he known what a value he could have been to Scarrans, an established scientist who would have made his Scarran family proud. No, instead he chose to ally himself with Sebaceans. He would pay for that mistake in judgment.

"Lieutenant? Have you made contact?"

"War Minister, we believe the Strykers have been engaged but…” The Lieutenant tried to hide her fear but Ahkna could see it in the female's eyes. She believed they'd already lost this mission. “We are hearing faint distress signals.”

"And my other message?" Her spy had gone dark as well.

"Nothing, War Minister."

"Very well." Risk. She contemplated the next step in her plan. Moved her hand toward her communicator but Staleek saved her the trouble as he swept into the room, guard at either side and one more behind him. It seemed like a troubling number of guards.

"Emperor!" She bowed her head.

"It would appear your mission has failed, Ahkna." He motioned to his guard, each of which supplanted her own people at their stations.

Her eyes flicked over each of them, then back to Staleek.

"The meaning of this, Emperor?" She kept her voice steady, respectful yet firm.

“What is the status of your mission, War Minister? You requested additional Strykers. I ordered them through the wormhole. Have you found Crichton? Destroyed his planet? Obtained our crystherium?” He turned to the comms officer. “Lieutenant?”

“Emperor, we…” Her eyes darted between Ahkna and Staleek. “We believe they have engaged the humans in some sort of battle. We’ve received some calls but they’re faint.”

“Are you telling me the humans defeated them?”

“No, Emperor.”

Ahkna glared at the female. “Emperor, they have done as we requested. Set about attacking Crichton’s homeland. Crichton is sure to follow.”

“I've given you adequate time, yet have not received any communication that would assure me Crichton and his friends are dead. That his world is scorched or that we've obtained any crystherium."

"These things can take time, Emperor. Perhaps his world his better defended than we thought. We cannot proceed in any endeavor without more crystherium."

"Which we have other ways of procuring. I've already sent out scout ships--"

"He destroyed the matriarch! How much time do you think we will have, culling from multiple sources, when we have one unguarded source right in front of us? I can lead a mission in this very vessel. My crew, at my disposal. Our Strykers.”

Staleek narrowed his eyes at her. She could see that he was thinking it through; his mouth looked like it was moving with his thoughts. Her small stature meant the crystherium didn't metabolize as quickly. He was stupid, even with the supplement.

She stood still, waited for the order she wanted, the one she knew was being formed behind his lips.

“I will spare you one battle cruiser and additional Strykers." He said it as though it had been his idea all long.

She bowed deeply. "Yes, Emperor. You will not be disappointed. I will bring you a matriarch. Humans for study. John Crichton, and his companions. He can watch me torture them to death. I will personally rip his child from his female's body and then...then we will let him develop the weapons we need to finish off the Sebacean race. Is that sufficient for you?"

He glared down at her. "If you return defeated, it is you I will enjoy killing." He turned with a sweep of robes, his guards falling in behind him.

Risk. Once she returned triumphant, withholding the crystherium for herself and those loyal to her, Staleek would be as easy a mark as the remainder of the universe.

 

 

***

 

 _Fish in a barrel, my ass_. Mitchell hovered behind Marks, his legs like coiled springs. Their engagement with the Scarran ships that had doubled down and returned through the wormhole had ended with minimal success. Prometheus stood, barely scathed but their F302 forces were nearly gone. Enough of the Strykers to create havoc, just enough to get past their defenses to Earth.

The thought made him sick.

They’d tried to engage the other ships that had come through. Had Sun called them Prowlers? Too fast for Prometheus, they’d flown past, all but ignoring the big ol’ battle cruiser that sat not too far from them.

Now the space in front of them showed nothing but debris and a wormhole. No recovery, no rescue. Their ships and pilots had been obliterated. He felt like a spectator to his own demise.

“Colonel Mitchell? Colonel Pendergast?” Marks glanced up at him. The lights on the panel in front of him lit up the major’s face. “Sirs, I’m getting a new signal.”

“One of ours?” Pendergast said.

“Negative, sir.”

“What? Spit it out, Marks.” Mitchell pushed away from Marks’ chair.

“It’s not the …This is something new. Not ours, Colonel Mitchell. Not Goa’uld or Lucien Alliance…Colonels?”

Mitchell saw it. A ship, larger than the Prometheus, glided through the wormhole.

“Sirs, they’re hailing us.” He glanced at Mitchell. “I think…”

“Open channel,” Pendergast said.

The voice that came through was male—at least, that’s what it sounded like. But the words were indistinguishable.

“Any way to translate that, Major?” Pendergast said.

“Working on it, sir, but it doesn’t seem to match anything in our database.”

The sounds repeated themselves. Familiar…

“Colonel, does that sound like Aeryn Sun to you?” Mitchell said. Same cadence, clicks. Whatever was being transmitted, it was the same thing over and over.

“Shields up. Get me a better view.”

The ship magnified on the screen. He saw it then. The same small ships, pointed nose, red and black. None of them turning toward the Prometheus, just like their predecessors, but, instead, flanking their carrier and positioned like a greeting part at the wormhole.

He reached over Marks and hit a comm. “Teal’c.”

“Colonel Mitchell.”

“I need Thor to see what he can give me on this ship. This hail. Marks, patch it through.”

Marks nodded. The ship in the view screen was a full size something all right. Something Star Wars in size. He half expected to hear Darth Vader breathing through the comms.

“Colonel Mitchell.” Thor’s voice, cool as always. “The cadences and patterns match those of the alien you brought aboard. As you are well aware, there are no language matches.”

“Can you contact SGC? See if we can get Aeryn Sun online?”

“We continue to have difficulty, Colonel Mitchell,” Teal’c said.

“See if you can get a copy of that message to SGC anyway. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Crichton or Sun can translate before we start Intergalactic War I.”

“Sirs…?” Marks pointed to the view port but Mitchell had already seen it. The carrier spat out a small ship. It took a trajectory toward them. The male voice continued until another snapped through it and silenced him. Female. Clipped and filled with what sounded like annoyance. And in English.

“We mean you no harm,” she said.

“Shields to maximum. Hold fire. Scan for weapons,” Pendergast said.

“I’ll take this one,” Mitchell moved to the portal. Stared out, arms crossed over his chest. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force. State your business.” He turned to Pendergast. “Hold any firing order.”

The voices on the other end, two different languages, from what Mitchell could ascertain. It sounded like they were arguing.

“Crichton?” she said.

“This is Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell. We will shoot if you don’t respond.”

“We request a meeting with you. I accompany Captain Miklo Braca of the Peacekeeper forces. I will serve as his interpreter.”

“Peacekeepers. You don’t look too peaceful to me.”

The woman sighed, managing to convey her disgust. “You need our help. The Scarrans are after John Crichton. The Peacekeeper commander, Scorpius, is with some of our complement.”

“Don’t know the guy and don’t care.”

“Listen to me carefully, Colonel Mitchell. If you have had any contact with John Crichton or Aeryn Sun, they’ve likely explained the savagery your world will witness if the Scarrans bring a ship like ours here. You have an advantage at the moment. Do not squander it.”

Mitchell moved back to Marks. “That’s enough of that.” He leaned over, hit the comm, then hit another for Tealc. “Did you guys get that?”

“Yes, Colonel Mitchell.”

“Thoughts? Suggestions?”

“While the smaller ship is weaponized, it is no match for the Prometheus on its own. There does not appear to be any weapons activity from the carrier.”

“Ok. Colonel, I have a plan.”

Pendergast nodded. Mitchell hit the comm. “Your name….Miss….?”

“Sikozu.”

“Well..Si-KO-zu…How about I go and meet you. Two of us, on your ship.”

The comm was quiet then she sighed again. “That is satisfactory.”

He turned back to Teal’c’s comm. “Think we can get a beam from here to there?”

“They are close enough in range that the wormhole likely won’t interfere,” Thor said.

“’Likely?’ Define ‘likely’.”

“Ninety eight percent.”

“As opposed to letting that little ship on board…”

“You run a similar risk, though less to you personally.”

“Right. Teal’c, are you feeling good enough about the odds to come with me?”

“Indeed.”

 

***

 

Ninety eight percent had turned out to be very good odds. There were four beings that met him on the deck—two who who stood at separate consoles and appeared to be piloting the ship, and the other two whom Mitchell assumed were Captain Braca and Sikozu.

The looks on their faces when he and Teal’c materialized in front of them told him that they’d never seen anything like that before.

 _Chalk one up for the humans…or Asgard_. That would work to their advantage.

“Crichton!” Sikozu held her hand over her mouth in surprise.

“Lt Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force.” He extended his hand but Braca and Sikozu just looked from it to him then at each other. He swept his hand toward Teal’c like a flourish. “Teal’c, of the Jaffa.”

Braca said something rapidly. Like Aeryn Sun, he was completely human in appearance. The girl? Not quite as much. Bipedal, clearly female (or at least seemed to be), petite with bright orange hair that fell to her shoulders in ringlets. Her skin almost matched her hair.

“You’re not Crichton.”

“No, Ma’am.”

“But you’ve met him. You know what he looks like.”

“Yes, and yes.”

Braca nodded as though he understood every word.

“Does your captain speak English?” Mitchell asked.

“English? Your language? No. But he understands.” She pointed to her head. “Translator microbes.”

“And you? ‘Translator microbes’?”

She waved away any explanation. “Immaterial, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Cameron. Just call me Cameron. What do you have to offer me?”

She turned to Braca. He nodded. “First,” she said. “Are Crichton and Aeryn alive?”

“Yes.”

She breathed out. “And with you? Up here?” She sounded almost excited.

“No.”

“Oh. What about Pilot? Their pod? The others?”

Braca said something again--she waved him off too. “Cameron?”

Mitchell shook his head. “Your pilot? I don’t think he survived.

She looked down, bit her lip. “Our crew…the rest of us…”

He resisted an urge to comfort her. “Teal’c and I have been up here babysitting the wormhole. I’ve had minimal communication with Earth but we didn’t see anything come through other than…” Other than dozens of ships, the Peacekeepers own carrier…the damn wormhole was the Grand Central station of space. No Supergates, no Ori. Just a phenomenon he didn’t understand.

“You wouldn’t have seen them,” she said.

“Because…? Is there some cloaking device involved?”

She nodded.

“Well, that’s just great.”

“They mean you no harm.”

“Oh, like you two, right?” He pushed past her, took a walk around the ship. Neither she nor the Captain moved to stop him.

The consoles and panels were heavy on the black and red and Nazi-like symbolism, which did nothing to quell his concerns. The Captain and his crew wore black with red trim. The crewmen had scarcely given them a second look, like they were trained to not look unless told to do otherwise.

Braca said something again, Sikozu nodding with each word. “I’ve been asked to inform you that, had we come to harm you, you would already be dead. Your ship would be a burning shell and any remaining crew members would be Peacekeeper prisoners. Which, I’d like to add, is not a pleasant thing to be.”

“Well, that was mighty nice of you to spare us.” He leaned in over one of the crew, a young woman who didn’t seem to notice him. The console was flat, looked like a touch screen…not too unlike their own Asgard related technology.

Still, nothing that he could use, that he could decipher.

“Cameron, I assure you, that wasn’t largess.

Captain Braca is under orders from the Peacekeeper Commander, Scorpius. No harm is to come to your planet in exchange for John Crichton and his companions.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands. “You’re ransoming this ship, our planet, for Crichton?”

Sikozu turned to Braca, said something to which he responded. An argument, from the gestures and expressions. Mitchell guessed pissed off looked the same across cultures.

“No. Not exactly.” She paused. “The stakes are larger than that. The Scarrans—”

“Scarrans? The guys who came through before you?”

She turned to Braca who looked pleased. “How many are here?”

Mitchell shook his head. “Until I get some assurances from your Captain here that he’s not going to take any offensive actions, I don’t feel compelled to tell you anything.”

She turned to Braca, said something. He nodded and she stepped toward a console, beckoning him to follow.

“Have you had visual contact with them, Cameron? The Scarrans?”

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

“No pleasure at all. Let me tell you about the Scarrans.”

She ran her palm over the console. The space in front of them lit up with a hologram of a tall, lizard like creature, its head not too dissimilar from a horse’s.

“These are their warrior class. Scarrans are dedicated to purity of the race, even more so than Peacekeepers.” She cast a disparaging look at the crew around her. “They’ve used my people, the Kalish, to assist them with their technology. They’re incredibly stupid without their crystherium.” She glanced down then gazed back at him, her expression hardened. “We destroyed their matriarch plant. The thing that keeps their intellect intact.”

Another image appeared on the screen. Imposing, dressed in red, a face of almost human proportion but with that same lizard like appearance. “That is Emperor Staleek.”

A new image, a smaller being but every bit as imposing. “War Minister Ahkna.”

More images, ships, explosions. One of the Scarrans with his hand held over another being that resembled Sikozu in color, and who looked like he was melting under the Scarran’s hand.

Mitchell turned to Teal’c. Even Teal’c’s expression looked a little bit horrified.

“They captured Aeryn Sun. Tortured her. Tried to remove her child from her for its DNA. They believe her child is Crichton’s and that its DNA will provide them with wormhole technology to utilize as a weapon. The very type of wormhole you see here.” Her hand swept toward the portal.

Mitchell nodded. His blood ran cold in his veins. “So they’re very bad guys,” was all he could manage.

Tearing a fetus from its mother…Goa’uld, Ori: They almost paled in comparison.

She scoffed. “Understatement. They want their crystherium, which they believe they can replenish here. They want to annihilate the Peacekeepers and all those they deem as lesser species. That would certainly include you. They want revenge, and they want Crichton.”

Sikozu turned to Braca. He nodded. “We—Peacekeepers. Kalish. Humans— have a common enemy. I don’t know what Crichton’s intent was but I am positive it was never to lead them here.”

“But here they are.”

“You’ve seen what they can do. What they’ve done here?” She closed the holo, turned to him.

He shook his head. “Not up close.”

“Count yourself fortunate. If they’ve invaded your airspace, it’s likely they’ve begun conflict.”

He glanced at Teal’c.

“They may have shot down our fighters,” Teal’c said. “We could not identify the craft.”

“Scorpius’ plan was to fracture their forces. Some here, after Crichton, some on the other side of the wormhole. Weakened and more easily defeated.” She turned to the portal, peered out.

She was looking at Prometheus with something that resembled interest. Awe was too big a word for the expression on her face.

“Your ship?” she said.

“I take it when you were ‘here before’, you didn’t see anything like this.”

“We thought your planet was more vulnerable, yes.”

“Surprise! We’re not going to be taken that easily.”

Sikozu smiled at him like he was an idiot. “What you’ve seen is just a fraction of their forces. I assure you, you won’t defeat them alone. And, in that, I think you need to consider the alliance Captain Braca proposes.”

She turned to the Captain. He was a small, wiry man but the look on his face assured Mitchell that he wouldn’t be fooled with.

Captain Braca spoke again. Sikozu’s expression looked like she was hearing something she didn’t want to. She tried to interrupt the Captain but he raised his hand, palm open, then shut it into a fist.

Sikozu turned back to Mitchell. Inhaled. Stalling.

“Assist the Peackeepers in the defeat of the Scarrans. Return John Crichton. We will leave a ship at the wormhole to ensure nothing else comes through.”

“Peacekeepers.” He turned to Teal’c. “Just like the U.N., right? And what assurances do I have that you won’t turn your weapons on us?”

Braca spoke again. Sikozu rolled her eyes. “We have given our assurance.”

“I’m sorry. Didn’t we just meet? You’ll forgive me if I’m not convinced.”

She sure didn’t look convinced; little more than a mouthpiece, he guessed. Her reaction to the news about the pilot…Crichton and Aeryn…there was a familiarity in her voice when she said their names, an emotional component that was clearly lacking in the Captain.

Sikozu stepped up to him, crowding his personal space. Teal’c stepped forward but Mitchell waved him back.

“Cameron. Captain Braca could at any moment turn these ships against yours. He doesn’t have orders to do so. It would be a waste of his energy and resources. If you can help us to defeat the Scarrans, I am sure I can convince the Peacekeepers to leave.” She stood on her toes, lowered her voice. “I want to help them—Aeryn, Crichton…the rest. You have to help me.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, took her in. Didn’t want to fall prey to any damsel in distress business.

“They’re planet-side.”

She stepped back. “And you can’t just send yourselves there like you did here?”

“The wormhole…maybe the Scarrans. Maybe you guys. Something’s jamming us up.”

“We can leave our ships here. Defend against any additional Scarrans I assure you, they will be back. I may be able to assist with your technology.”

She looked earnest but that was only his interpretation. She’d called herself a “Kalish”. Had referenced at least three species, none of which were human. The Peacekeepers still didn’t sound like the best deal to him.

What had Crichton said? _Scarrans_. _They’re after me—no, better. They’re after Earth…_

“Tell you what,” he said. “Show of trust. You, me, Teal’c…your Captain. Back to Prometheus. You’re gonna help me crack whatever it is that’s messing up my communication so that we can relay this to the General.”

She glanced at Braca who gave no sign of this thoughts about that. “I fail to see the purpose,” she said.

“Call it a good faith move. You’re in this with us? Then come with us.” He turned to Braca. “Captain?”

Braca looked him up and down like he was considering a lesser life form. He said something, the word “Crichton” the only recognizable thing.

Sikozu nodded at his words, turned to Mitchell. “We want…” She cleared her throat. “We want confirmation that we’ll have Crichton returned to us.”

“You know, he’s a person, not a bargaining chip. I can’t make any promises. I promise you’ll be safe on our ship, that I’ll do everything in my power to help you defeat a ‘common’ enemy. But that’s where it ends.”

He was going out on a limb for that guy. A guy he didn’t like, though hardly knew, and who’d stirred up this hornet’s nest in the first place.

Sikozu faced him, nodded, looked almost relieved. He turned to Braca. “Captain?”

Braca nodded once, said something. “We are agreed,” Sikozu said. “For now.”

“Well that’s something.” Mitchell hit the radio on his vest. “Thor, four of us to go in three. Marks, if this thing makes any offensive moves, fire.”

“Cameron, I assure you—”

“Yeah. That’s what they all say.” He turned to Teal’c, nodded toward the Captain. Teal’c nodded in response, grabbed Braca by both shoulders. Mitchell wrapped his arms around Sikozu. The beam lit them up before either alien could utter a word.

 

***

 

They materialized on the bridge in front of the crew. Marks stared with open interest, while the rest of the crew looked from screens to the four of them.

“Mitchell?” Pendergast said.

“Sorry about the guests, Colonel,” Mitchell said. “I know, unexpected company and all…”

Braca tried to shake himself free of Teal’c but the big man didn’t release his hold.

“What is the meaning of this!” Sikozu sputtered.

“Captain, I apologize. I thought you might like to see how this thing works. Translate, please.”

“I don’t need to translate, _human_.” She said it like it was a dirty word. “This could be construed as an act of war.”

She glanced at Braca; he shook his head, said something.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Every bit as reckless as Crichton.” She turned to Mitchell. “What is your plan? You _do_ have one, don’t you?”

He rubbed his hands together, glanced at Teal’c with a smile. Teal’c looked at him like Mitchell was a crazy little kid.

“Let’s get a message to your ship first. Captain, let them know you’re safe and we’re planning to assist you with the Sleestaks—”

“Scarrans,” Teal’c corrected.

“Scarrans. Marks, open the channel.” He turned to Sikozu. “Can I trust you to tell me if he’s saying something other than that?”

“We’ve given our word—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Braca stepped up to Marks, tugging on the bottom of his leather tunic. He looked annoyed more than anything else. He spoke as Sikozu provided the translation.

“’This is Captain Braca. Surround the wormhole and shoot nothing but Strykers. Do not fire on the Earth ships. I am working in cooperation with the humans as Scorpius ordered.’” Sikozu turned to Mitchell. “Satisfied?”

“Works for me. Colonel?”

Pendergast nodded and gave his own don’t shoot at anything but Scarrans message.

“We want assurances that our comrades are safe. You have our commander Scorpius,” Sikozu said.

“ _I_ don’t have anything. I told you—I haven’t had communication with my commanding officers.”

She tilted her head, looked like she was trying to suss out what was in his head…could she read minds?

“You _do_ have subspace communications.” She said it like she didn’t think it was possible.

“Yes, we do. And we’ve been sending messages—”

“I may be able to circumvent yours…perhaps if you hadn’t hijacked us from our ship, we could have used our communications. As it is, I will have to take extra steps to connect with the Marauder and—”

It was his turn to interrupt. “Nope, skip the explanation. If you can do it, let’s do it.” He turned to Braca. “Captain, you will accompany us please.”

Braca was inspecting everything around him, Teal’c on his heels the entire way.

“Cameron, you said you had a plan?” She glanced up at him, looking skeptical.

“Nukes.”

“Nukes?” She nodded like she knew what he was talking about. “A fission bomb.”

“You have those?” He waved away any answer. “Nukes, or a nacquadah bomb. I’ll take either. Beamed onto their ships. But I can’t do any of it until I get the okay.”

He took her by the arm and steered her toward the control room. “Okay, Miss Sikozu, let’s see what you can do.” Though he suspected there was really nothing left to surprise him.

 


	14. Take It On Faith

“Vala!” Daniel heard the panic in his voice as he dropped to his knees alongside her. The healing device skittered across the floor to rest at Sam’s feet.

The walls were like living things as the group from Moya crowded past him toward their pilot. He caught sight of Aeryn, glancing down at him. Then she gave one quick shake of her head and pressed toward the table.

Garbled syllables, spoken quickly. A cacophony of voices, accents; only John’s voice had any recognizable content but he wasn’t even listening to that.

“What happened?” Sam dropped down beside him as he slid his forearms under Vala and scooped her toward him.

“Come on, Vala.” He held her with one arm, cupped her chin in his palm with the other. Shook her head carefully. “Come on.”

Sam reached out for a pulse, nodded. “She’s alive. Pulse steady.” She picked up the device. The light flared in her grasp as she held it over Vala.

Nothing.

“Sam?” he said.

She shook her head. “I…It’s not an injury. Maybe it was just too much.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Mitchell hadn’t moved from the door. “Jackson? What is she doing?”

“Cam,” Sam said. “Shut up for a minute. You know that’s not the same woman.”

 _Not the same woman_. _Fifty years, fifty years…_ What wouldn’t he have a chance to tell her if she didn’t wake up?

 

***

 

“Aeryn…” Pilot blinked at her. His voice barely more than a whisper, eyelids moving in slow motion—even the effort of that seemed too much.

She covered her face with her hands, stifled her joy. His claw twitched but he seemed too weak to push against the straps.

“I’m here.” She reached out, stroked his face. “We all are.”

“Hey, Pilot,” John said. “You did it, man. You got us to Earth.”

“Where’s Moya. Where are we?” He gazed around the room as best he could.

Aeryn reached out to unstrap him. John grabbed her hand. “Leave it,” he said. “The less he moves, probably the better.”

“Chiana? D’Argo?…Rygel?” Pilot paused. “Aeryn, I’m frightened. I don’t feel my connection to Moya. I…I don’t feel anything.”

“It’s okay, Pilot. We’re going to get you back to Moya.” She didn’t know if that was true, she didn’t know if he’d die, she didn’t know if any of them would get out of here…it didn’t matter. For now, he was alive.

“Aeryn Sun. I know you will do your best. I must rest.” He closed his eyes.

Behind her, Daniel Jackson staggered to his feet, Vala in his arms. The woman’s eyes were closed, one arm limp and hanging away from her. Colonel Carter made room on the other side of the table, just outside Pilot’s reach. Daniel laid her there.

“We can never have everything,” John said. “Dammit. We…she…that device. That did it? Is she…”

“She’s not dead.” Daniel looked from her to them. “She’s not dead.” He was emphatic. “Pilot’s alive. That’s what you wanted.”

“Not just that,” Aeryn said. “To set this all right.”

“If she doesn’t wake up, it’s not going to be all right.”

“Daniel,” Sam crowded toward him but he held his hand out.

“Don’t. Sam. I don’t know how this is going to end. You don’t either. Look at this—none of us belongs here except him.” He nodded toward Mitchell. “This thing just keeps getting bigger. And it’s you, John. You need to do something. If she doesn’t wake up…” He cleared his throat. “If she doesn’t wake up, I don’t want it to be for nothing.”

“Uh, guys?” Mitchell had moved away from the group, had gone to the phone on the wall. “I’m sorry, Jackson. It’s the General. Sam, he needs to speak to you.”

 

***

 

John felt anchored to the ground, a chess piece on the larger board waiting to be moved. He was no one’s pawn—hell, he was everyone’s pawn.

_“’To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!’”_

_Harvey struts on the stage in full Shakespearean garb while John sits in the empty auditorium. Freshmen year field trip to a performance of Macbeth, bored out of his skull._

_The auditorium roof is a patchwork of beams crisscrossing a gray sky glowing orange…_

_“Smoke from a distant fire,” John says._

_“Excuse me. This is Shakespeare, not some one hit wonder. Respect!”_

_“Is she dead?”_

_“Why do you care? Because she looks like Aeryn? She’s not.”_

_“Because. Because I am a goddamn humanitarian.”_

_Harvey clears his throat. “I said ‘out, out brief candle. Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player…’ That Willie Shakespeare really knew his stuff, didn’t he, John. If she’s dead, how will it effect your goals? Hmm? The smart one, Carter, is still alive. There are two of them. That one, Jackson…why, he’s played his part in your drama. He saved Aeryn’s life. Found her when you couldn’t. Realized that he’s lost his opportunity at love. Look at him, John. Look at the way he looks at her. It must be love!”_

_Harvey clears his throat again, clasps his hands together like an opera singer. “’Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’”_

_John leaps from his seat. He tangles his fist in Harvey’s ruffled shirt. Harvey on his back, John straddling him, both hands around Harvey’s throat, pinching the air out of his windpipe._

_“Don’t. John!” Harvey’s hands around John’s wrists. “Don’t. Scorpius. Scorpius won’t let you.”_

_“Maybe he’ll bring you back, Macbeth.”_

_“Maybe he’ll bring you back, John. He’s here. He’s waiting.”_

“John!” Aeryn at his ear, almost as loud as Harvey.

He breathed like he’d run a marathon. Perspiration misted his hairline, slid down his back. He glanced around, saw his friends looking at him like they usually did. Like he was freaking out, breaking down, wigging out—

Daniel’s attention was still on Vala; one glance up then back at her. He held her hand, said nothing. The reason for his interest in Aeryn was apparent now.

“He’s waiting,” John said. “They’re destroying my planet and he’s waiting. For me.”

“Who? John.” She shook him. “I told you—don’t listen to him.” She tapped the side of his head.

“You and me, Aeryn. Complicit. You said it.” He nodded his head toward Vala. “That’s on us. This.” He pointed around the room. “On us. ‘All our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death…’”

They’d left a trail of sacrifice—Zhaan, Crais, Talyn…nurses who would have lived full lives had it not been for them. Even Neeyala’s people. Women, and children. The good, the bad, the ugly—death was indiscriminate.

Even his own twin self had died in the wreckage.

And when it was over, he and Aeryn still stood. Which of his friends would be next?

“You guys.” He pulled away from her side, turned to D’Argo. “You need to go back.”

“We are not leaving without you or Pilot.” D’Argo took the stance—arms over his chest, feet firmly planted.

“You weren’t here when we got here. You can’t be here now. Stark. You get it. Right?”

“Too much, too much,” Stark said. “Too many to count.”

“See? Stark’s got it. It’s too much. For me. Absolute engrossment.” He turned toward the phone as Sam put it back in its cradle. He glanced at Jackson who was now staring at him intently. “Sam, you said we can’t go back, right? No turning back the clock?”

She held up her hand to stop him. “John, the Peacekeepers are here. Their captain, Braca, is on Prometheus with Cam…” She hesitated as she considered the other Mitchell who just shrugged in response. “And someone named Sikozu who’s serving as translator.”

“Well, don’t that just beat all.” He shook his head, bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. “Those bastards made it, Sikozu leading the way. Didn’t take long for her to sell out.”

“They’ll take you in exchange for helping us,” she finished.

“No. They won’t.” Aeryn eyed the room like she was looking for something to shoot. “Scorpius is here. And unless they want to see me personally execute him, they won’t carry out that threat.”

Sam looked unperturbed. “The General’s already on it. Not the execution part but a swap. Scorpius for you, John.” She sighed. “He’s cutting his losses, I think.”

“The grand prize at the fair,” he said then turned to Aeryn. “Let’s talk to him. You and me. Break the bad news that he’s worth about the same as me. Sam?”

“That’s not our orders,” Mitchell said.

“Sorry, Cam.” Carter glanced at Pilot. “Is he…can you leave him?”

“He’s alive,” Daniel and Aeryn said at the same time. Daniel raised an eyebrow at her, head cocked at an angle like she had gotten inside his head…

_Stop it, Johnny boy._

The unfinished sentence hung in the air, accusing him. The others in the room shuffled their feet like they were trying to rub it off the bottoms of their shoes: Pilot was alive but Vala may not be for long.

Aeryn pushed past him, strode to where Daniel stood, a useless accessory to the woman who lay stretched on her sliver of table. Her face, still.

From here, she could be Aeryn. He was only grateful she wasn’t. That was all the space he had left.

“I’m sorry.” Aeryn touched Daniel’s arm then glanced at John. “Let’s finish this.”

 

 

***

 

 

It wasn’t a room, not like the one on Prometheus or even their command center. They’d put Scorpius in a full on jail cell. A set of metal bars separated him from the rest of the room.

Visions of all the old westerns he’d ever seen danced in his head; he was the old timey sheriff, Scorpius the very bad man he’d captured.

The old black and white TV on the kitchen counter while his mother chopped vegetables and he stood there eating every other one while some white hat rode into the sunset with the girl.

On Moya, his wormhole calculations on fire. The fire turning to the glow in the sky that Harvey showed him; he knew, by now, that at least some of that had come true.

His mother dead on one side of a hospital room while a curtain pull away was his child kicking in a hospital bassinet. He stood between the two, one foot on each side…

He was losing it. Hell, he’d lost it. Like his own mind was sectioned into the realities in the wormhole. A pair of giant hands held his brain and twisted it like they were trying to rip apart an orange.

Sam stood behind him, Beretta drawn.

“Scorpius,”Aeryn said. “How unfortunate.”

“Ah, Officer Sun. Of course.”

“It’s a package deal, Scorpy.” John said.

Scorpius sat on the cell’s sole chair, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “So this is Earth.” Scorpius looked around the cell. “Primitive.”

“Skip it, Nosferatu. Speak your piece.”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Huh. Let me guess. You want to poke your sticky fingers into my brain and see what comes out.”

Scorpius sighed. “Again, you misunderstand.”

“Hey, I know it’s not personal. I’m a means to your end. The belle of the ball. The prettiest girl in the room. You just want me to make you look good.”

“Gibberish.” Scorpius wiped his hands against each other. “Officer Sun. You’re a strategist.”

“Why are you here?” she said.

“Who cares why, Aeryn,” John said. “He’s here. So, Scorpy, I hear you’re looking for a swap. Me, for your help. Well, guess what. They ain’t buying. Whatever your grand plan was? It’s over.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice everything?” He looked at Aeryn.

John ignored that. “You’re the one sitting in a jail cell. Braca is on one of their ships. If you don’t get some advantage on the Scarrans here, now, you’re screwed. Seems like you’re on the short end of this deal.”

He turned, glanced at Sam. Her expression gave nothing away. She held the barrel of the gun in both hands. He pulled up a chair, straddled it, and rested his chin on the chair back. Aeryn stood beside him.

“Braca, the Peacekeepers, Earth.” John held up a finger for each of them, one, two, three. “They’re going to fight your little war. Because if they don’t help Earth, then you don’t get to go home. Right, Colonel Carter?”

“That’s the plan,” she said.

“If it goes well, and we don’t get killed in the process, then you and Braca and all of you are off my ass. Aeryn, my friends—we’re riding off into the sunset. _Capisce_?”

“Officer Sun.” Scorpius was finished with him. “You know this plan will fail. You know that I am needed on. My. Ship!” He lunged into the bars, hands extended through them but not close enough to John.

Carter brought the gun up, aimed. “Back away.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Aeryn said. She stepped forward but stayed outside of reach. “One thing you should know, however, is this. My debt to you was paid when I didn’t kill you on Katratzi. After that…” She shrugged.

“Here’s how it’s gonna go,” John said. “You’ll talk to Braca. You’ll tell him to play nice with the humans so we can defeat our ‘common enemy.’ It’s a win-win. My brain, off limits. This wormhole? Closed. My world sealed off from the likes of you. That’s really all either of us ever wanted anyway, right? Dead Scarrans and to be rid of each other. Don’t make this an ugly breakup, Scorp.”

Scorpius sat down, turned his face toward the wall. His mouth was drawn down but he was clearly considering the offer. There was a growl under his breath, then he touched the side of his head.

“Captain,” he said. “Did you capture that last communication?” He turned to John, smiled. “You see, John. I am not completely without resources.”

Carter edged forward, bent toward John’s ear. “What just happened?” she whispered.

He sighed. “Like he said, he’s not without resources, Sam. But he’s not going anywhere.”

Scorpius finished his conversation. “We are agreed. Braca is on one of your ships and feels confident that an alliance can be forged. You can thank Sikozu for that. You’d be better prepared if I were on board my ship.”

“I think we’ll take our chances. You’re really in a deep hole here. Literally. You’re just gonna have to trust me.” He couldn’t resist one last shot. “Hope you like how it feels.”

He pushed away from the chair, turned away from the cell.

“John. One more thing.”

Aeryn held his arm. “Leave him,” she whispered.

This time it was Carter who took the bait. “What’s he want?”

“The wormhole weapon, John.” Scorpius didn’t respond to Carter. “If you can build it, they can be defeated. Here. Your planet, saved. Otherwise…? Who knows.”

John cocked his head. Closed his eyes. There was a wormhole. There was death. His twin’s message had spelled it out in full. It could be built.

“He wants what he can’t have,” John said. He didn’t turn around. “We’re done here, Scorpius.”

Carter followed them out the doorway, then slid the heavy metal door into place.

 

 

***

 

Carter stopped them just outside the door. “What does he want?” she repeated.

“John created a wormhole.” Aeryn cleared her throat. He saw the discomfort in her face, the way she looked elsewhere when she said “John.” No need for additional explanation to Carter.

“What did it do?”

“It swallowed a dreadnought, a Scarran ship larger than your Prometheus.” She snapped her fingers. “There, then gone.” She turned to John. “We should leave him here, with them.”

“What? Aeryn, that’s nuts.” Like the thought hadn’t occurred to him too.

“Can you really do that?” Carter said. “Build a wormhole weapon?”

“I don’t know…Aeryn, we’re not leaving any of us behind.”

“’Us?’ When did he become part of us? John, this could alter the course of the war. We could do things for the better—”

He held up a finger in front of her, his mouth tight. “We never leave it for the better. We just have to leave it the way it was and hope the chips fall in the right place.”

“We could be done with him. He’d be out of our lives.”

“It’s like whack a mole. Kill one, another crazy springs up. Grayza . Ahkna. At least I know this crazy.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you should send him back the way he got here,” Carter said. “Give him back to your shipmates. The last thing we need is him in command of his ship.”

“Is O’Neill going to go for that?” The idea wasn’t half bad. Scorpius off Earth but not with the Peacekeepers. D’Argo had gotten Scorpy this far. No reason to believe he couldn’t do it again.

Sam sighed. “Only one way to find out. Let’s talk to him.”

 

***

 

 

The first thing John noticed when they got to the conference room was Cameron Mitchell’s smug expression staring out from one of the monitors on the wall.

The next thing was the woman standing next to him: Sikozu, who looked like an ally. Everything old was new again. Braca was a speck in the picture by comparison.

D’Argo and the others had stayed with Pilot. Just as well, John supposed. What he didn’t need was one more voice in his ear.

The other monitor contained General O’Neill, and the Samantha Carter from this reality.

“Sir,” Carter said from the screen. She looked around. “Where’s Daniel?”

“I had Mal Doran taken to medical,” Mitchell said. “He insisted on going with her.” He shook his head. “No idea why.”

“Crichton. Aeryn.” Sikozu didn’t wait for an invitation to talk. “It’s good to see you alive.”

“Sputnik. I thought they’d left you babysitting Moya. Guess you got a better offer?”

She drew herself up. Aeryn nudged him with her elbow.

O’Neill stepped back, crossed his arms over his chest, and cleared his throat. “Carter, I understand you met with their commander?”

“Scorpius,” Sikozu said from her side of the screen.

“He’s fine,” John said. “Sitting in a cell and thinking about his life. Maybe he’ll turn it around? Maybe he’ll get killed. Hell, I don’t care.”

“Crichton, shut up,” O’Neill said. “Mitchell has a plan. Go ahead, Mitchell.”

“Nukes. Mark IX.” Mitchell glanced at Sikozu. “Right, Ms. Sikozu? We’re gonna beam nukes onto their ships. The beams are new to them and I think they’ll vastly underestimate our capabilities.”

“What about their shielding?” Carter asked from the screen.

“’Arrogant’,” Mitchell used air quotes. “That’s what Sikozu says.”

“Their shields are the least of their technology,” Sikozu added. “Our Prowlers can weaken it sufficiently.”

_John was watching a bank of televisions in the windows of an old Magnavox store when he was a kid. Walking downtown, past the barbershop and a burger place, his mother’s hand clasped firmly over his. Susan would walk behind him with Olivia, trying to step on the back of his shoe while their mother rushed them along. He couldn’t even remember their ultimate destinations any more. Just the feel of his mother’s cool, firm hand over his, the sound of his sisters’ giggles as they tried to derail him._

They were all here, on this Earth. Unfinished business.

This wasn’t a second chance—not really. It was an aberration of physics, of time, space. An unreality that was playing him like a fiddle. Dad wasn’t dad, that wasn’t really his mom…DK was alive, married to Olivia. They had a kid. None of it was real.

Fear was the answer. Einstein had left it all in his brain. Even if this all ended on his terms, he’d still have that crap in his brain.

Mitchell and Sikozu yammered on about nukes and beams and ships.

“John.” Aeryn’s hand around his bicep, pulling him closer. Her whisper in his ear. “John. Are you hearing this?”

He nodded. “Nukes. Scarrans. Ships. I get the gist of it. It’s their plan. All we gotta do is close the wormhole.”

“So we blow up their ships.” It was this reality’s Mitchell, pushing his way in front of Sam. “How do we deal with everything else? I mean, no offense to the guy on the ship, or you, Sam.” He turned to Carter alongside him. “Isn’t one of each of us enough?”

Sam Carter raised her voice through the loudspeakers from SGC. “Cam, we received the data you sent from from their pod, as well as the bit Thor had available, once we re-established communication.” She paused, brought her fingertips to her lips. “As it stands, neither of us is able exactly pinpoint any seam that would indicate when this anomaly occurred.”

“You mean the wormhole,” Mitchell said from his place on Prometheus.

“She means our getting here, Cam.” Sam said. "And by 'exactly', you mean..." She paused, looked up at her double.

"Any attempt can't guarantee you'll get where you want to go," the other Carter replied.

“So we’re stuck here?” Mitchell took a deep breath. “No guarantee we'll get back to our universe. That's gonna be a problem."

John pulled away from Aeryn, stepped past Mitchell and stared at O’Neill. “It’s my mess. I don’t know how it mixed in with yours, but I’m the only one who can clean it up.”

Sikozu stood there alongside Mitchell, looking every bit the ally. Yet, she’d gone willingly with Scorpius. D’Argo had left her on Moya but there she was, hanging out with the Peacekeepers again, on an Earth ship.

He shook his head, turned to Carter. “General, I’d like a private conversation. Without the Peacekeeper ear piece up there.”

Sikozu glared at him. “You don’t trust me.”

“Sorry, Sputnik. You’re just too close for comfort. Mitchell, you might want to consider locking her and Braca up, just to be sure.”

“Crichton, you are wrong about this. Aeryn, I am only here to help. If we can make a stand here, we can be rid of them. Scorpius is fracturing their forces. You’ve refused to help him with the wormhole. What choice does he have? He wants peace.”

“Right,” Aeryn said. “Scorpius wants peace. Why didn’t he say so in the first place?”

“Too much water under the bridge,” John said. “General?”

O’Neill nodded. “Prometheus. Stand by.”

John saw Mitchell start to protest then Prometheus’ screen went blank.

“Okay,” O’Neill said. “Carter, you met this Scorpius they all want so badly. What’s this wormhole stuff you’re talking about?”

“A weapon. Scorpius thinks John can build it.”

“What?” O’Neill said. “Carter, don’t tell me you’re talking about another wormhole?”

“There’s a weapon he devised—Their commander Scorpius wants it. That’s why he wants John.”

“So he dragged himself all the way here for you?” O’Neill shook his head, pointed at John. “I could make this go away and just turn you over to him. Everyone leaves, you guys work out your problems on the other side of the wormhole.”

“An open wormhole, Sir,” Sam said. “We can’t defend it forever.”

“No, you can’t,” John said. “I’m the only one who can make this right.”

O’Neill ignored him. “Did it work, Carter? Did the Pilot make it?”

“He’s alive,” Sam said. “But I’m not sure he’s going to be able to travel like he’ll need to.”

“And Mal Doran? She did what you thought she would?”

Sam nodded. “She…Yes. Sir, I’d like to propose that we send Scorpius back with John’s people. Get him out of the picture.”

“And what if his people don’t go for that and decide to attack?”

“Then you use Mitchell’s plan on them,” John said. “Nuke ‘em all. Hell, I don’t care. I don’t trust him to keep his word. The only way you’re going to have any leverage is to send him back to the other side. They want him, they’ll have to play nice. Our friends can stash him until the wormhole is closed. Then it will be our problem. Not yours.”

O’Neill nodded. “All righty then. Get Daniel and Mal Doran up to speed. We’re going to make arrangements to get you all back to SGC so we can see if this crazy plan of Crichton’s will work. Mitchell, ‘all’ includes you. And get Crichton’s people out of here with Scorpius.”

“There’s one more thing.” This time it was Aeryn, much to John’s surprise. “He needs to say good-bye.”

O’Neill raised his eyebrows. “Right. To his family because that’s what? Magical? Who do you think I am, the Wizard of Oz?”

“Sir,” Sam said. “Shouldn’t we cover all our bases?”

O’Neill rocked on his heels for a moment before the Carter beside him spoke. “Jack,” she said. “It’s not gonna make things any worse.”

“Huh. That remains to be seen. Fine. If we can swing it, we will.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Carter, let Prometheus know we’re a go with the nukes. The captain can retrieve his commander when they return home. That might incentivize it a little.”

 

***

 

A team had brought Vala to a private room in the infirmary. A couple of medics had changed her into a hospital gown while Daniel had stood in the corner, hands in his pockets. Her exam had shown stable vitals but the various stimuli hadn’t caused her to wake up.

He sat beside the bed, Vala’s hand clasped between his two. Her face was turned toward him, hair fanned out across the pillow. She was pale but breathing.

There was a knock on the door then Mitchell stepped inside and closed it behind him.

“Hey, Jackson.” Mitchell put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “We’ve got some word from General O’Neill. We’re heading back to Stargate Command once Crichton’s people leave.”

Daniel glanced back, didn’t release her hand. “How soon? I don’t think she’s good to move.”

Mitchell squared his shoulders and folded his arms over his chest. “Daniel. What’s up between you two?” He looked like he really wanted to know.

“What do you mean? Nothing. We…” Friends? Co-workers? Somewhere in between?

Somewhere in dreams, there was more. Dreams that seemed real, like a life lived. Old, middle aged… Dreams that plagued him for their sense of having taken place.

It wasn’t possible to remember what had happened on the Odyssey. It was his own mind trying to fill in the blanks. What he couldn’t understand was why that was the turn they’d taken.

Mitchell shrugged. “A few hours ago, we dragged Vala Mal Doran through the gate. She claimed to be a Goa’uld. Now I hear she’s just a fraud. A liar. So…how come this one’s different?” He pulled a chair to the other side of the bed, sat and leaned back like he wasn’t in any rush.

“She just is.”

“You’re the same Jackson. Sam is Sam. Teal’c’s the same barrel of fun he’s always been, right? I’m gonna bet that the Mitchell up on Prometheus is a real pain in the ass. But her?”

Daniel closed his eyes. Saw her die in flames. Remembered the relief he felt when the Prior brought back to life. When he realized she’d survived the jump through the supergate. When he took her off the Ori ship, alive.

_Leave me, grab her._

_Oh, yeah, like that’s gonna happen…_

What had happened for fifty years? Had he managed to push her away his entire life? What would he do if she didn’t wake up?

What would he do if she did?

“No answer, huh.” Mitchell shook his head. “Seems kind of obvious.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Sounds like there’s a lot you’re not saying . Not to me. To her.” He stood up, pushed the chair back with his foot. “This whole deal—this wormhole, all those aliens. Double-mint gum us…maybe it’s just a chance to learn something.” He went to the door. “Don’t waste the time you’re given is all I’m saying.”

“Mitchell. Wait.”

Mitchell, his hand on the door knob, turned toward him.

“Give her a chance to prove herself,” Daniel said. “The Vala you have here. Before you lock her up and throw away the key, give her a chance. She might surprise you.”

Mitchell gave him a half smile, glanced at the woman on the bed and nodded his head toward her. “Maybe you need to follow your own advice. Don’t take all day.” He closed the door behind him.

Vala’s hand slid out from between his. Daniel turned to her. “Vala!”

“Daniel.” She cleared her throat. “That was really… lovely.”

“You…you were awake? The entire time?”

“Not quite. Just that last part where you lobbied on some other woman’s behalf.” She moved to sit up, then let her head fall back to the pillow. “I feel like I’ve drunk all the galaxy’s alcohol. Did he…did the Pilot wake up? Did I do it?”

“You did it.” _She might surprise you._

“So I saved his life and ended up here…and you were concerned.”

“Of course I was!”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And what you told that Colonel Mitchell…about giving her a chance…”

“She’s worth it.”

She grabbed the sides of the bed, pushed herself up. “Gods, I’m getting tired of hospital beds, though they do seem to be the only time I get your undivided attention.”

He stood up, went to the small closet where they’d hung her clothes. “I should get the doctor—”

“Daniel. Mitchell’s right.” She reached out her hand, let it hover in the air. The expression on her face gave nothing away. “About wasting time. Life’s too short.”

 _Life’s too short._ Memory slipped through his fingers like water through a sieve.

“Doctor,” he said again.

“No. No. Not until we talk, and I know where we stand.”

They were too different. He was her target of ridicule. She could pack up at any moment…so many reasons to push her away. Yet, here he sat. And when he thought that she might not wake up, the sinking feeling in his gut had threatened to pull him under.

“’We’,” he said.

She let her hand drop to the bed. “I see how you’ve been looking at her.” Her fingers picked at the sheets. “How you’ve watched out for her. You saved her life.”

“It’s…it’s what we do.”

She nodded. “Maybe. But I’d like to think that maybe—maybe—you see something of me in her. And that you’ll give me that chance.” She held out her hand again. “We don’t know what’s on the other side. We don’t even know if we’ll survive this. We could go back through the gate and not even know where we end up. Is this how you want to end it?”

He stood there, her shirt in one hand, jeans in the other. Just small aspects of her, and he held them.

“No,” he said. “It’s not. So you think…that you and I could…that we could mean something else for each other.”

“Daniel, we don’t need a name for anything I just want to know that you’ll be there on the other side of this.”

“Will you?”

“That is exactly where I want to be. Part of SG1 and part of your life. We can see where the rest takes us.” She sighed. “Who would have thought Colonel Mitchell could be so insightful?”


	15. Battleships

“So that’s it. That’s your plan.” D’Argo looked implacable. Pilot lay on the table behind him, quiet, connected to fluids that John wasn’t even sure did anything. Was he better? Worse? As far as John could see, Pilot was still alive. That was something.

Carter stood at the door, arms crossed over her chest, and foot tapping in a manner that told him they didn’t have a lot of time.

“It’s the only way.” Aeryn glanced at John, looking dubious herself.

So many avenues for this to go pear shaped, they weren’t even worth counting. He had two options: His plans—get his friends back to Moya, keep Scarrans from overrunning this Earth—were rudimentary at best. Everything after that was a crap-shoot.

“Absolutely not,” D’Argo said. “We are not moving Pilot. We are not leaving. And I am not taking that piece of dren Scorpius back through the wormhole.”

“D. Seriously, man. Is this what you want now?” John took a deep breath.

“D’Argo, don’t be stubborn.” Aeryn stepped forward. “We don’t have a lot of time left.”

“You don’t know how much time we have, Aeryn. Scorpius is here. We don’t need him anymore. We should kill him. Simple as that.”

“Look, you have argued every step of the way since you got here. You shouldn’t have come. You owe it to Chiana, Rygel, Stark…” She glanced at the table. “To Pilot.”

“So you’re just throwing in your lot with humans. Is that how it is now?” D’Argo went to Aeryn, then reached out and laid his hands on her shoulders. “We’re comrades. Why do you want to stop now?”

She stood her ground, looked up at him. Gave him a half smile. “I don’t.” She turned to John. “But John’s right. It’s the only leverage we have with Braca. You need to take everyone back through the wormhole. If we can’t close it, if we all get stuck here…Pilot deserves a chance. And so do you.”

“That woman—can’t she use that device on him again?”

Aeryn shook her head. “It didn’t go so well for her, did it. I can’t. I can’t ask that again. We don’t even know if it will work a second time.” She glanced at Chiana. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah. I’m good, Aeryn,” Chiana said. “Pilot, you, Crichton….you’re all alive. D’Argo. They’re right. We need to get the frell out of here.”

D’Argo relaxed a little. “Fine. But did you wonder how they got Pilot out of the pod?”

“Well…the same way we put him in?” Aeryn said.

“Suppose not. Suppose those frellniks cut the top off. They didn’t know how to unload him. What about that?”

“Ka D’Argo!” Pilot’s voice rose from behind them, stronger than John would have expected.

“Pilot.” Aeryn pushed away from D’Argo. “Pilot? How are you?”

“Tired. But alive. I want to see Moya.”

“We’re working on that,” John said.

“Aeryn, put me back in the pod. Lo’La can tow it back through the wormhole. I may be able to…” His voice faded then snapped back.

“Pilot?” Aeryn said. “Pilot, stay with me. May be able to what?”

“Readings. The calculations. Crichton’s.”

“I’ve already had them sent to my other…um…self,” Carter said. “Now that we have access to it all, I’m optimistic that we’ll at least have a key to figure this out.”

Aeryn turned to her, raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” Carter said. “Maybe I’m overly optimistic but this isn’t our first rodeo.” Carter pushed away from the door and walked toward them. “I’ve inspected your ship. Apparently they were able to remove you with minimal damage.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” D’Argo said.

“D’Argo, if I am to die, then I die,” Pilot said. “But it will be in space, not here, not like this.”

“That’s what we want to prevent, Pilot.” D’Argo gave John a look of disgust. “You dying.”

“You are blaming Commander Crichton and Officer Sun for something I did willingly.” Pilot reached out. “Aeryn.” Pilot laid a claw on her shoulder. “Do not bear any burden that will distract you. I’ve lived. If I meet my end, then it will be among the stars where I belong. You understand, Officer Sun.”

She put her hand over Pilot’s. Nodded, sucked in her breath. John felt the punch in his gut from where he stood.

“Commander?”

John nodded. “Understood.”

“Ka D’Argo, I suggest you follow their plan. If you secure the pod closely with Lo’La, I will be protected.”

“I….I’ll ride with him,” Chiana said. “Right, Pilot? I’ll be there with you.”

“Chiana,” D’Argo began.

“I can do it Just gimme a mask…something for Pilot too. We can stay warm, huddle together. It’s a short trip, remember?”

“And Scorpius?” Rygel said. “What about that frellnik? What’s to stop them from killing us once they return? If they return? Sikozu? Braca’s word?

“Scorpius. He’s your guarantee You’ll have Scorpy until we get back.”

“And if you don’t?” Rygel said. “I hate to be the realist but—”

Chiana hit him on the back of the head without missing a beat. “You love to be the realist.”

Carter nodded at Rygel, turned to John. “His ship.” She pointed at D’Argo. “Your pod and Pilot. John, how are you going to get back without it? If that’s how you got here, isn’t that how you need to get out? Your pod? With Pilot?”

Before he could say anything, Aeryn spoke up. “Not exactly.” She turned to John. “Maybe that was our first mistake. You did it before. And without Pilot.”

He closed his eyes for a moment—had she seen the dreadnought swallowed whole? “You think the module will do the trick? Now that we’ve tried everything else?”

Carter shook her head. “Wait. What? What module? That little ship your friends brought?”

“Yeah. That one.” _It’s not gonna work, Aeryn. I’m not fast enough. Not smart enough. The universe craps on me at every turn…_

He kept it to himself. Waited. Calculations too fast for him to complete in the pod. Could it be done in the module? He’d flown enough wormholes, had collapsed one. His twin’s knowledge, shared.

Aeryn bit her lip in thought. When she looked at him again, her eyes were liquid, caught in memory. He felt that same familiar tug in his gut… _I missed that dance_ …then he let it wash away.

“You created a displacement engine for the module. It created a wormhole that destroyed the dreadnought—”

“I’m not destroying any dreadnoughts and I’m not creating any wormholes—” He knew how it worked. It was in his head, a constant refrain. _Wormholes A-Z…_

“Stop.” She held up her hand. “Let me work this through. You had to create _and_ collapse that one. This time you already have a wormhole.” She turned to Carter. “And likely a sufficient ignition source.”

“So, we’re….bait? We get the Scarrans to follow us through then collapse it on them? Using a bomb?”

“If they’re not defeated here. After D’Argo and the rest go through. Even the Peacekeepers.” She turned to Carter. “You have weapons, engines—things we didn’t have on Moya. We’d need something massive to collapse the wormhole.”

“Aeryn, no.” He shook his head.

“I was there. It was the same thing, with the displacement engine. You created a …a flare of sorts. I don’t know. Do you see any other way, John? We can’t use the pod. We can’t use Pilot. It’s just us. Exactly what you said.”

_Einstein. You…_

He grabbed Aeryn’s arm like he was trying to find a life line. “I’ll do it. But you have to go with the rest—”

She reached out, ran the backs of her fingers over his cheek. Her eyes met his. “We agreed we needed to do all we could to save this world, these humans. You’re not doing it alone. The only way I’m going anywhere is with you.”

“Oh!” Rygel sighed with disgust. “That’s all very romantic. But will it work?”

Carter nodded. “A nacquadah bomb might do it. Maybe? I’d need to know all the parameters—how much power before it blows you both up, for example. But. We do have other means of killing Scarrans.”

John took a deep breath. “Yeah. But you still can’t close the wormhole. And that’s what this ultimately is all about.”

“John, Moya may not even be waiting for us,” D’Argo said. “Which is why we should go with you…”

“If she’s not, then do everything you can to get Pilot back to her and meet us at Arnessk. Jool and her people might be able to buy us some time. And if we don’t make it…”

He looked at each of them, realized he had no choice but to make it. He reached out, took Aeryn’s hand.

“We’re having a baby,” he said. “Aeryn and me. Our child. And we’re going to raise it in peace.”

Rygel slapped a hand over his forehead. “This plan is fahrobt, but it’s the only fahrbot plan we have, short of staying here.” He shuddered. “I’d just as soon not do that.”

“We are agreed,” Stark added.

“D?” John said. “You’re flying the ship. You’ve got to do the work.”

D’Argo sighed and stepped forward. He laid a hand on John’s shoulder, and smiled. “Congratulations, John. You’ll be a fine father.” He turned to Aeryn, stepped forward and hugged her. “We’ll make sure there’s a place for your family to call home.” He released her and stepped back.

“Pilot?” John said.

“Yes, Commander?”

“Thoughts?”

Pilot sighed. John knew that sigh well—skepticism wrapped in resignation.

“Fortune be with you, John, Aeryn. And your child.”

“Thank you, Pilot,” Aeryn said. “D’Argo, follow Colonel Carter’s directions. We will see you all on Moya.”

 

***

 

 

“That was not the plan.” Sikozu turned to him, fists clenched at her side. Braca stood between two armed guards, Teal’c behind him. The Captain looked equally pissed off.

“No, it wasn’t.” Blindsided. Not that Mitchell had ever agreed, or even considered their commander as part of the bargain. They hadn’t gotten that far.

It was a pretty straightforward plan. Send nukes to the Scarran ships when they inevitably came through the wormhole.

But, for the last few hours, the wormhole had been quiet. Peacekeeper fighters, the Korolev as back up … and not a Scarran in sight.

It sounded like a Peacekeeper ambush. Get him riled up about Scarrans, then have them both attack.

Yet, she’d taken the trouble to walk him through a Scarran primer. She’d was visibly relieved when she saw that Crichton, Sun, and the rest were alive and well.

Was she just playing both sides? Was her agenda separate from everyone else’s?

He grabbed her by the elbow. Braca started after her but, with a nod from Mitchell, Teal’c put his hand on the captain’s shoulder and held him in place.

He steered her toward the passageway, away from the rest of the crew. “Ok, Sikozu. What’s your game? You showed me the evil Scarrans, you warned us about this warship they’re sending. How long before you guys turn tail and start on us?”

She shook free of him. “Everything I’ve said is true. And your general should have released Scorpius to us, where he belongs.”

“So was this just your plan to get your boy back?”

Her expression said he was the stupidest thing she’d ever encountered. Which, he supposed, she thought about most everything.

“You fail to understand. Scorpius wants one thing—defeat of the Scarrans. Crichton is a means to the end, not the end. What Scorpius failed to see is that your world isn’t as helpless as he thought.”

“What _does_ Crichton know about wormholes? About closing them?”

Sikozu laughed. “Not enough, apparently. But, he knows more than anyone else. Even Scorpius.”

“Colonel Mitchell.” It was Teal’c. Mitchell turned—Braca stood close to the portal. Before Mitchell could utter a word, the first shot hit the Prometheus, rocking him back onto Sikozu, then stable again.

He grabbed her arm, pulled her half dragging-half running, to the bridge.

Pendergast had already given the shields up command.

“Marks, get the techs up to speed on the nukes, and get the Korolev on comms,” Mitchell said.

Alerts blared through the corridors. In front of him, the tail end of a ship was exiting the wormhole. Massive, larger than the Prometheus, almost as big as the Peacekeeper ship. The same, smaller ships that had come through in the first place, sprang out from the depths of the carrier where the Peacekeeper fighters began their engagement.

Braca already had his comms in hand and was speaking rapidly. Sikozu held a handful of Mitchell’s uniform as she stood staring out the portal.

“They’re here,” she said.

 

 

***

 

They’d returned to the control room and not a moment too soon. O’Neill saw the activity and knew, before anyone could tell him.

“Sir, we have Prometheus. Colonel Mitchell for you,” Harriman said.

“Don’t tell me…” He turned to Sam who’d already taken position at the console next to Harriman. “Sam? Get me the President. Walter, any word on our team at Area 51?”

“On their way, sir.”

“General, I have President Landry.” Sam handed the phone to him.

“Mr. President.”

“Jack?” Landry snapped. “What is going on up there? Central command just told me we’ve got incoming. They haven’t hit atmosphere yet. I thought your folks were done with this.”

“No, sir. I’ve got the Prometheus on it, and the allies we discussed. Sir, you’re safe?”

“I’m about to go on television and tell everyone that we’ve taken care of this and there’s nothing to worry about. Make sure your actions can back up my words.” Landry hung up.

O’Neill looked at the silent phone in his hand, then set it back in the cradle. “Carter?”

“I’ve picked up a communication. Language…” Carter shook her head. “Nothing we can distinguish—not like Aeryn Sun or any of the others. I’ve got Mitchell from Prometheus, sir.”

He looked up at the screen. “What’s the story, Mitchell?”

“Scarrans.” The little redhead next to Mitchell announced.

“She’s right, General,” Mitchell said. “Sam, can you transfer that —Whoa. Wait.”

 

***

 

 

His finger was on the comm with SGC when the message came through.

“Marks, open the channel and make sure General O’Neill gets this too. Sikozu, ask the Captain to ready his ships for a hit on the Scarrans.”

“Captain Braca needs to be back on our ship.”

“Not now,” Mitchell said. “I’m not taking any chances with all this going on.”

“Our marauder can retrieve us.”

“And get blown out of the sky? No.”

The screen lit up. Familiar from the information Sikozu had shared with him. A petite figure, maybe no larger than Sikozu herself, wearing a headdress and heavy looking clothing. Two others, twice her size, flanked her. Their deck was sterile looking, pale blue green walls, silver consoles, and one very uncomfortable looking dais that held what looked like it was supposed to be a chair.

“It’s their War Minister.” He turned to Sikozu. “The one you showed me, right? They sent their war minister?”

“John Crichton,” she said. She continued speaking, Sikozu translating.

“’I should have known you were behind this. Captain Braca, surrender Crichton to me now. You don’t have a chance at victory.’”

Braca didn’t respond to her directly. He continued his dialog with his comms then turned back to her, spoke.

“’Ahkna, your own miscalculation will cost you. What will the Emperor say when he realizes you’ve failed, just like your father before you.’”

“Monologuing,” Mitchell said. “As long as it works.”

Sikozu shook her head, looking like she had no idea what he was talking about. “She thinks you’re Crichton,” she said.

“Well, yeah. I got that part.” He drew a finger across his throat toward Marks. The portal switched to black. Braca glared at him.

“Marks, report.”

“Shields are holding. Colonel Mitchell, they’re hailing us again.”

“Captain Braca insists he return to his ship,” Sikozu said.

“We’ve covered that. How high up the food chain is the war minister?”

“Second in command.” She turned to Braca who said something in response to her answer.

“I agree. Why would they send someone so high up in the hierarchy?”

“I have no idea. Marks, did SGC get all that?”

“Yes, sir. General O’Neill says you’re a go on the bombs.”

“Captain Braca, please let me know when you believe you’ve softened their defenses so we can let these babies loose. Marks, once we’re a go, let’s send ‘em a love note, shall we?”

 

***

 

“Where are we, Walter?” Jack said. “Mitchell?”

“Here, sir.” Mitchell’s voice was loud through the speaker, his image clear. Whatever the little red head had done, it had been enough to get their signals to near perfection.

“General, Colonel Carter and the rest are here,” Walter said. “On their way down.”

“Carter, get me a visual of the wormhole and ships,” Jack said.

She nodded. Another screen lit up alongside the bridge of the Prometheus. The wormhole, undulating just on the edge of the screen. What was left of the F302s, two other types of ships, all engaged in a battle around the larger carrier.

Carter rocked back in her chair as one of their own exploded in front of them.

“Mitchell, ETA on your nukes?”

“Sir, we’re looking for a gap in the shielding. So are the Peacekeepers.”

Another F302 was down. The bridge of the Prometheus rocked as it took a hit.

“Mitchell!”

“Still here, sir. Marks? Thor?”

Both voices came through the channel, garbled, then the picture cut out.

“I’ve lost them.” Carter pushed her chair away from the console.

***

 

Ahkna poised herself in her chair, spine drawn up. Two battleships, one clearly Peacekeeper, the other completely unknown to her.

Beyond them, a tiny blue planet. If her intelligence was correct, that was Earth. Crichton’s home-world, filled with crystherium.

“War Minister, your orders?”

She turned to her deck crew. “Fire at will. Destroy them all.”

“Ahkna!” Staleek’s voice was crystal clear through the comms. “Have you completed your mission?”

“We are in the midst of it.”

“Return with nothing less than success, or don’t return at all.”

The Emperor’s voice was broadcast—purposely, she knew—for all to hear.

“Fools! Destroy them!” There wasn’t a need for specifics.

She should have insisted on two cruisers but that hadn’t seemed important at the time. Her information had been limited for some time now, the well of knowledge gone empty.

_Where are you, my spy?_

The Humans wouldn’t be the only ones at her mercy if she didn’t get her information soon.

 

***

 

She held fast to Mitchell’s chair as the ground rocked beneath her.

Activity swirled around her—Mitchell barking orders, Braca still talking to the Peacekeeper crew, the screen in front of her alive with Prowlers and Strykers and Earth ships.

This wasn’t anything like their previous encounter. Those people had been so impressed by them, their ships, their technology…their _otherness_ , from the color of their skin to what meals they preferred. These people seemed almost weary of it.

The Scarrans had sent Ahkna. Why the change in plan? Why would Emperor Staleek allow his second on as risky a mission as this?

The most important question—where did this leave her people?

Her deal: Kalish freedom if she could help Ahkna acquire Crichton’s wormhole knowledge. But had she really believed they’d uphold their end of it?

She’d been wrong to even consider it.

“Colonel,” Mitchell said. “Let’s get our fighters back. Captain Braca, I suggest you do the same.”

Braca turned to her, glaring, as if it was her fault they were here, then gave the order. The ships returned toward the command carrier, taking Strykers with them in pursuit.

“Marks?”

“Out of blast range, Colonel Mitchell.”

“Shields down. Brace for incoming. Send the first nuke in ten.”

The countdown overhead as the ship rocked again.

“Colonel, we’ve lost contact with Earth.”

“Fire on level three, Colonel.”

“Seven, six, five…” Mitchell said. “Four. Three. Two. One. Boom.”

The explosion landed on the Scarran ship and dissipated.

“Dammit! Shields up.” He turned to Sikozu. “What can you tell me about their defenses, right now.”

There were two voices, Mitchell’s and the one in her ear.

Ahkna. “What is their status? Kalish? Answer me.”

She sighed, and turned away from Mitchell. Removed the communicator from her ear, rolled it between her fingers.

“Mid section, low,” she said to him. “They’re vulnerable there. One hit, you’ll take out their shields for at least twenty microts.”

Braca turned to Mitchell, spoke. Before Mitchell could respond, two Peacekeeper Prowlers had rammed the Scarran mid section.

Mitchell fingered the panel on his chair. “Now. Shields down, send ‘em now!”

She saw it. Dual beams of light that appeared to laser through the Scarran warship. The explosion started out from the center, appeared to thread through the ship and out the portals. Shouts, screams, echoed through the communicator she held. Then the whole thing appeared to implode until there was nothing but but debris.

The Prometheus rocked back like a ship against a tide then steadied. A cheer broke out on the bridge and the humans began hugging one another.

Braca pulled away from the portal, approached Mitchell and gave him a satisfied nod.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Mitchell pumped his fist in the air. “Marks, see if we can get Stargate command back online. Let’s clean up the rest of these bastards. Fire at will.”

He pushed away from his chair, grabbed Sikozu, and hugged her. Just like something Crichton would have done.

“You did it,” he said. “You did it.”

She took a deep breath. The screams were not just Ahkna’s nor the Scarrans. They were cries of her people.

She pushed away from him. “Please. We’ve played our part. Please. Send us home.”

 

***

 

Cheers echoed up the stairs as they followed Carter down to the control room. Area 51 to an airstrip with the module in the belly of a cargo ship—Carter had assured him that the fighters escorting them would be enough defense. Now that he was on the ground, safe, he believed her.

Aeryn squeezed his hand. The crew in the control room were hugging each other, high fiving. The other version of Carter gave O’Neill a one armed hug while O’Neill clapped Radar O’Reilly on the shoulder.

“What is that all about?” Vala said. “It certainly wasn’t for us.”

No question about that.

“General?” Carter led the way.

“You’re back.” He looked past her at John. “It’s done, Crichton. Mitchell’s plan. The Scarran ship is toast.”

“General, I have Colonel Mitchell.” Radar’s eyes flicked to John, then to the Mitchell in the room, then back to the screen. “Sir, I have Prometheus.”

Cameron Mitchell pushed past the group from Area 51 to where O’Neill and Carter stood. “Sir, we’ve got Crichton’s ship secured as requested.”

“In a minute, Colonel. Prometheus, report.”

“General, we don’t have access to their communications so we don’t know if they’ll be sending more ships. But what was here is history.”

Destroyed. They’d destroyed Katratzi. That hadn’t stopped the inevitable.

_“Oh, oh ,oh.” Harvey’s back, hands clapped against his face, a cross between the kid from Home Alone, and The Scream…_

_“What now?”_

_Harvey’s brought them back to the shoreline, back to grey sands and dead bodies gently rocking against the sands. Lady Liberty toppled, New York City’s destruction making 9/11 look like a kid’s party._

_“You know what. Time.”_

_On Serenity Base, saying good-bye to his father, the old family photo at his fingertips._

_Time. Fix the first thing that goes ape._

_Time…heals all wounds, wounds all heals, ends, stops—_

_Time’s out._

Aeryn pulled on him, nodded toward the others. On screen, Sikozu stood beside Mitchell. Off screen was Mitchell, two Carters, two Jacksons…He shook his head like it would all go away.

“We want to be returned to our ship,” Sikozu said. “We want to go home.”

“Stand by.” General O’Neill turned to them. “I see you made it, Colonel Carter.”

“Yes sir.”

“Crichton.”

John stared up at the screen, ignored the general. “Sputnik. They’ve gone back. D’Argo, Chi…Scorpius.” He craned his neck like he could get a better look behind her. “Hear that, Braca? So take your toys and go. Go now, because if you don’t, I’m going to seal this place up with you here, and you can deal with that mofo and his nukes.” He nodded his head toward Mitchell on the Prometheus.

“Crichton!” O’Neill said.

John waved it away.

“We demand Scorpius’ return.” Braca pulled on his uniform like it would make him taller.

“Didn’t you hear me, Smithers? He’s on the other side of Oz.”

“He’s through the wormhole with D’Argo,” Aeryn interrupted. “And will be returned to you again, with the same conditions as before.”

“Ahkna’s dead,” Sikozu said. “She was destroyed with their ship.”

“Well, hallelujah and praise the Lord,” John said. “That’s one less Scarran on our asses.”

“Sir,” Mitchell pushed past Sikozu. “Your orders?”

O’Neill met John’s gaze. It could go either way, based on that look. “Gone. I want them all gone. Does your Captain understand, Miss?”

“He does.”

“Colonel, get the Captain and Miss Sikozu back to their ship and see to it that they leave. Do you understand? Once that’s done, we’ll get you down here and everything else squared away.”

“Sir.”

“Crichton…” Sikozu pushed toward the screen. “What are you going to do?”

“Close the wormhole. Go home. Have a kid.” He paused. “You can always come back to Moya, Goldilocks. I have a friend here who believes in second chances. Think about it this time.”

Before he could get her answer, O’Neill cut the visual. “Crichton. Now that that’s done…how the hell do we get rid of you?”

Carter glanced at Aeryn. “I have a plan,” Carter said.

***

 


	16. Turn the Page

O’Neill had allowed Daniel and Vala to bring them here after John had shown the Carters enough to acquaint them with the module. O’Neill had put the rest of it in their hands, not John’s. No surprise there.

“This is it.” Daniel stopped in front of a door. The guards who stood sentry moved aside. He didn’t knock.

The door looked innocuous enough—grey, solid, just like every other solid grey door in the facility. John had seen enough of it to last a lifetime. He nodded. Raised his free hand to the door, the other holding Aeryn’s. Hesitated, glanced at her. She squeezed his hand.

In the back of his mind: _mom, mom, mom…mom’s ring on Aeryn’s finger._

Closed his eyes.

_His mother’s body, connected to tubes, machines marking what was left of her life._

_“Gonna fly, mom. That’s the plan. DK and me, getting funding for our crazy ideas.” Ran his index finger over her papery skin, mindful of the IV needle. She was sleeping; he could have woken her up, just enough to say good bye. She would have wanted that._

_But he’d seen that hazed look in her eye too many times, the confusion and inability to connect his face to his name…he couldn’t do it again._

_So he’d kissed her lightly on the forehead, had said “see you tonight” and walked out the door._

When the call came, DK was the one who’d answered it while John had been somewhere less important than his mother’s deathbed.

“John?” Daniel said. “They’re waiting.”

“Second chances,” Vala said; her mantra.

He turned to Aeryn. “Ready?”

She shook her head. “John. I think you need to do this alone.”

“Aeryn…”

She reached out, cupped her hand on his face, then pulled away. “It’s too much for them. And you need time with them alone. I’ll be right out here.”

He took a deep breath. Felt like he was about to jump into the ocean where the cold water would slap him in the face. He rapped his knuckles on the door, once, twice, then turned the doorknob.

 

 

***

 

Another conference room, smaller than the others—almost too small for the people it held. They were all there. DK, playing rock, paper, scissors with his daughter, Bobby wandering around the sparse room like he was looking for cracks in security.

Frank and Susan in the corner, Susan jawing at him like he could do something about their situation.

Jack drummed his fingers on the table, sitting ramrod straight in his chair while Leslie sat staring at the table like she was reading the cards, and holding her sweater tightly around her shoulders.

When he closed the door, seven pairs of eyes turned his way.

Olivia….where was Olivia? She caught him by surprise as she stepped out from his right.

“Who…”

“Livvie.” His voice broke.

She turned to him, reached out. “John? Is it true?” Her fingers mapped his features; studied his face like she was trying to reconstruct him in her head.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the group surge forward; he couldn’t see his mother past it.

Olivia threw her arms around him, squeezed him the way she would when she was a little girl and thought she could crush him.

“John, how is it even possible?” She pulled away, her hands still on his arms. “I mean, Doug explained it…that other officer. Colonel Carter. She gave us the science. But…” She shook her head. “I…it’s unbelievable.”

“But you believe me?” He was clinging to her answer like a life preserver.

She nodded. Turned toward her family. DK and Johanna pushed away from the table. DK’s hand rested on the girl’s shoulder. Livvie gave a nod of her head and DK prodded the child toward her mother.

Livvie scooped her up with a grunt. “Jojo, this is…” She paused.

“John.” He reached out, brushed her bangs away from her forehead. “You can call me John.”

The little girl nodded and squirmed. Olivia set her down and she ran back to her father.

Susan started toward him. Bobby tried to follow her but Frank grabbed his arm, shook his head. Susan crowded in on them, pushing them toward the door. Crossed her arms over her chest. “They said…” She brought her fist to her mouth in thought. “DK, Colonel Carter. They said you’re the real deal.”

“Yeah. I’m me.” He pulled at the jumpsuit. “John.”

_Dead…what if his long dead sister appeared now, in front of him…what would he be willing to believe?  Would want to believe._

Glanced past them at his mother—long dead, alive here. Recrimination and gratitude— _I should have done more/ thank god I’m here…_

She didn’t turn his way. Elbows on the table, hands over her face, head bowed like she was praying. Jack stood over her, hand on her shoulder. Attention anywhere but him.

“Dad wants DNA.” Susan kept her voice low. Secretive. She put her arm around Olivia. “But…”

“You guys aren’t just having a Fox Mulder ‘I want to believe’ moment, are you?”

“How would you…” Livvie said. “You weren’t…you’re dead—”

“Here. Not there.”

Susan glanced back at her son, leaned in toward John. “Theoretically, I get it and…I do want to believe. I just don’t understand why...”

“Why you’re here,” Olivia finished. “How it’s possible is one thing. Why it’s this place, this time…”

“What else did Carter tell you? The whole story?” Another furtive glance toward his parents, his brothers-in-law…

Susan would have none of that. She reached out, took his chin in her hand and directed his attention to herself.

“There was a wormhole,” Susan recited. “That’s how we got here from the base, right? A wormhole? A big secret government project that I’ll never talk about outside this room? But you’re not part of that.”

“No.”

“So you…Crashed here? With a woman and a ship and…some other thing? And you say that this is a reality outside your own.”

John nodded. “An unrealized reality.”

“’The multi-verse theory of quantum physics,’” Olivia said. “Those were Colonel Carter’s words.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Susan motioned with her hands like she was clearing away smoke. “Colonel Carter seems to know her stuff. But… but it’s not enough. John. You’re dead here. You’ve been dead since 19—”

“Eighty six,” he said. “I know. 1986, a fire because I was a dumb ass and dad didn’t get there on time…He saved me, didn’t go on the Challenger--”

Susan shook her head. “No. Dumb ass. It was a motorcycle crash. You, mad at your girlfriend, at dad…at everyone. You could hardly drive the damn thing as it was. You took off like a moron, hit a truck. He didn’t go because he couldn’t leave us—”

Her voice caught in her throat and she wiped at her eye with the back of her hand. Regained her composure. “What am I saying? ‘You!’” She stabbed her index finger at his chest like an angry mother. “You have no right to be here.”

“Susan,” Olivia said. “Mom? Keep it down.”

“John.” Susan paused, sounded unsure of his name. “I believe you. I actually do believe you. But it doesn’t matter. You’ll only break her heart again.” She cleared her throat. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You _had_ a brother. He’s gone. You don’t need another.”

_You sound like an ass, Johnny boy. A crybaby, the same kid who pouted when his big sister wouldn’t let him do what he wanted._

“Shut up, Susan. For just a minute,” Olivia said. “Don’t you even want to know? I mean…we have other lives somewhere else. You, me, mom, dad…” She glanced up at him, reached out and touched his arm. Hopeful. “John. John has another life.”

Susan looked like she wasn’t biting. She glanced back at the family. Mom and dad studiedly oblivious. Frank with his eyebrows raised, still collaring their son. DK had gone back to playing with his daughter but he was glancing over as well.

“Some of it’s good,” he said. “Some of it’s not.”

“You’re alive,” Olivia said. “That’s a plus.”

“Mom isn’t.” Inelegant, direct. Was there any other way to say it? “Dad’s good, you guys—good. DK…”

_Bodies jammed into a trunk, DK and Laura, tossed out like garbage because John had something everyone wanted except him._

And here he stood, that same gift rearing its ugly head.

Olivia’s expression changed. “Mom. Doug.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s some other place. That’s where I was going. That’s what I was trying to do. Save it from the what’s out there.”

“What happened to mom?” Olivia wasn’t going to be swayed.

“Cancer. Eight, nine years ago.”

Susan sucked in her lip. “You’re alive, she’s dead. That’s it, right? That’s what you’re saying?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to tell her that. Whatever else you say, whatever else you want to tell her or she chooses to believe…you can’t tell her.”

“What about Doug?” Olivia said. “Is he all right?”

“Livvie.” He braced his hands on her arms.

“Tell me.”

“You and DK—no one calls him Doug but his grandma—you guys didn’t get together. Susan, Frank, Bobby—they’re all there. In my time, I…we came back to Earth. You and Bobby went up in our ship.”

“You’re not answering her question,” Susan said. “And adding a whole lot of others.”

“DK’s dead.” _All my fault_. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Olivia. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Susan shook his arm. “Hey. That’s somewhere else.”

Olivia glanced back at her family, blinked away tears. Waved at her daughter and brought up a smile. “I have them here. Am I happy there?”

“God, Olivia, let’s not do this—”

“Tell me.”

“You were kind to the woman I love when I couldn’t be. You looked after her. Accepted her. You’re happy, Livvie. You…You made all the difference to her.”

He opened the door. Aeryn stood there, head down, pensive. Daniel and Vala outside his line of sight. He extended his hand, drew her in, shut the door.

She nodded an acknowledgment to each of them. His sisters nodded in return, then glanced at each other. His parents were both standing now, facing him, along with DK and his daughter, Frank, and Bobby.

“Olivia, when I left Earth, you gave me mom’s ring. You said…said she’d want me to have it. It was in my pocket when I tried to…”

How to explain shutting down a wormhole, his intent… where his head was when he talked to Dad from Serenity Base. How immaterial it was at this moment.

“It’s gone now. Stolen, lost. I don’t know. You gave it to me before I could walk away from you and Dad. You knew, I think, who I was supposed to give it to.”

Aeryn’s hand strong in his, fingers wrapping his own.

Their attention landed on Aeryn.

“You,” Olivia said. “You’re the one…dad said…said you’re having John’s child.” She glanced back at her parents. John followed her gaze. Saw his mother rise from her chair.

“Les!” Jack reached out, grabbed her arm, but she shook him off. Susan and Olivia parted, let their mother through the gap where she came to stand in front of him.

“Mom…” Susan said.

Leslie Crichton’s eyes were on his. She’d always had an ethereal quality to her. Studying the cards, removing herself from tense situations with a retreat to fantasy. There was no doubt in his mind that she’d been in retreat over the last twenty years.

This wasn’t the same benevolent and patronizing look she’d given him in the car. The eyes that stared at him now were appraising. Direct. On him alone.

“You’re not the man who was in the car. The one who said he was our son.” She held up a hand before he could answer. Turned her attention to Aeryn. “You were there, though. With him…” She cocked her head, looked like she was trying to see Aeryn through a different prism.

“It wasn’t her,” John said.

“No? But…you? You were telling the truth, weren’t you.”

He nodded. She ran her thumb over his cheek like she was brushing away a tear. His hand went over hers.

“Tell me you believe me. Mom. Please.”

_Below him, the wormhole wanting to suck him in._

_“But I am not Kirk, Spock, Luke, Buck, Flash, or Arthur-frelling-Dent. I am Dorothy Gayle from Kansas—”_

_Home…they were all here._

_Her space time signature will be familiar (not familiar enough, you black eyed bastard)_

_Maintain absolute engrossment (but you didn’t, you idiot)_

She slipped her hand away from his. He opened his eyes, glanced at Aeryn. Her attention was on his mother.

Mom, twisting the rings on her finger until they slid into her hand. She closed it in a fist. Reached out and took his hand in hers.

“Olivia was right. I’d want you to have it, Johnny.” She uncurled his fingers and dropped the diamond ring into his hand. “Do you have to go?”

He blinked, his throat tight. His sisters with smiles, tears. DK had his hands on Livvie’s shoulders.

John looked from each member of his family to the other. Finally to Aeryn.

 _We can live here… forever…_ The idea lapped at him like he was being lolled into the tides.

Mom, dad…his sisters, brothers in law. Their child would have family. This world had knowledge of aliens. They wouldn’t be all that different.

He could see himself and Aeryn working at Stargate Command. It’d be simple enough to guard the wormhole. Nukes, fighters, guys like Cameron Mitchell. He’d make amends with O’Neill, work with Carter—

Carter. Jackson, Vala, Teal’c. Mitchell…none of them belonged here.

And on Moya they were waiting for him to finish the job.

_The ice was a pedestal, just enough area for his two feet. Arms pressed against his sides like he was going to squeeze into a too small tube._

_Time had chipped away, would take all choice out of his hands._

“I can’t stay.”

Leslie nodded. “I know. But this was enough.” She pressed him to her. “I love you, son. Be safe. Live well. And thank you.”

 

 

***

 

There were a lot of words. The breeze on the tarmac had carried some of them away. Sometimes Vala wished she’d paid better attention to Samantha before. Not that it would have mattered now. A wormhole without a gate, a lookalike of her and Mitchell, doubles and triples…a funny looking little ship that was supposed to save the world as she didn’t know it—what more explanation could she want?

Sam had explained it all, or at least as best Vala could follow —there was some sort of power source engine thingamajig attached to John’s Farscape ship. John and Aeryn would fly off in that little ship, ignite the engine thingie, take the wormhole with them. Both Carters, and Thor sounded like it was as easy as turning on a light. This would all coincide with sending the team back to P3X9726, their original destination. Simple.

She’d stopped listening somewhere around that point. She’d stopped understanding it somewhere before that.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she said.

Mitchell raised his eyebrows at her. “Yeah? Kinda wished I’d listened better when you said that the first time.”

She squeezed Daniel’s hand. He gave her a tight smile but he looked preoccupied as Sam went over the directions with Crichton. Crichton was nodding while Aeryn Sun inspected the engine like it was the foreign thing it was.

“It will either work or it will not,” Teal’c said.

Mitchell clapped him on the back. “That is so zen, buddy. And pretty much sums it up. Otherwise…Think this world is ready for two of me?”

Teal’c raised an eyebrow. His lip quirked into a smile. “Colonel Mitchell, your plan defeated the Scarran advance. They could do much worse.”

“Oh, please!” Vala said. “Don’t puff him up any more than he already is. The fact is, Mitchell, none of you will end up in prison.”

“No one will put you in jail,” Daniel said. “No one. This will work.”

“And if it doesn’t?” She supposed there wasn’t anything back there for her. Mitchell had his parents, some old friends…Colonel Carter’s personal life was a mystery to Vala. The rest of them were the only family the other had.

The truth was, she didn’t want to be one of two. She wanted to start her life, explore what Daniel had told her. There was no chance of that here. Not with her doppelgänger having a bounty on her head on several planets.

Daniel took her hand, squeezed it, released it—so quickly that she had no time to respond. “Let’s have a little faith.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a sheaf of paper and unfurled it.

Squiggly lines, symbols…She leaned in, stabbed her finger at the page. “Where did you get this?”

Mitchell and Teal’c had crowded in too. “Jackson?”

Teal’c nodded in recognition. “Crichton’s notebook. The one we found with Aeryn Sun.”

Daniel smiled, looking more than a little self satisfied. “The other Daniel copied them. He thinks it could be insurance.”

“What, like a gate address?” Mitchell said. “The gate address for home _is_ home.”

“And if that doesn’t work, we don’t have to stay here. That’s all I’m saying.” He rolled the papers up and stuck them in his back pocket. “Their symbols are too similar for it to just be a coincidence. Even Aeryn thought there could be some crossover.” He paused. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just…you almost sound like you want it to be that.”

“If this doesn’t work, I’m willing to try another route is all.”

“But that route isn’t home,” Mitchell said. “It’s wherever _they_ came from.” He nodded his head toward the group on the small landing pad.

“But it is not here,” Teal’c said. “I understand, Daniel Jackson. We cannot stay here.”

Mitchell sighed. “Well, I guess we can all agree on that.”

Sam had ended her dissertation. She approached them now, John and Aeryn just behind her.

“Well, that’s it,” she said. “We’ve done all we can.”

The radio on Sam’s vest crackled then the General’s voice came through. He sounded as done with this as Vala felt. “Carter? Finished?”

“Almost, sir.” She turned to John and Aeryn. “Well…this is it. It was…interesting.”

“Interesting,” John said. “Mind blowing is more like it.” He extended his hand to Daniel and they shook on it. “Hey, thanks. For everything.” He glanced at Aeryn. “Teal’c. You kick ass. Thanks. Mitchell…” He paused. “You did something we couldn’t. You blew up their war minister. The sooner we get this wormhole closed, the better off this place’ll be.” Finally he turned to Sam, and hugged her. “Sam. I don’t even know what to say. Genius doesn’t begin to cover it. Neither does thanks.”

She returned the hug. “Yeah, well, don’t be too grateful until you make it back safely. Seriously. Both of you. Be happy. Take care of your baby. General O’Neill will make sure your folks get settled back safely.”

John wiped at his eye, nodded. “I know.” Before Vala could demand a good bye, Aeryn stepped forward, embraced her. Not what Vala expected at all.

“Thank you.” She stepped back. “For Pilot, for watching out for our child while it was in your care. For taking care of John when I couldn’t.”

Vala nodded, felt herself choke up. “No bother. I had to safeguard Daniel’s body after all.”

Aeryn smiled. “Right.”

John clapped Vala on the shoulder then pulled her into a hug as well. “Second chances.” He nodded toward Daniel. “Don’t let them pass. And ditto on what Aeryn said. Thanks for keeping me from getting myself killed.”

“Carter!” The colonel’s radio squawked.

“Time’s up,” John said. “Good bye and good luck. Who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again.”

Vala glanced at Daniel. “Maybe. At least you go to say good bye this time.”

“Remember what I told you,” Sam said.

“Timing is everything.” John Crichton tilted his head up, squinted against the sunlight. Vala realized he was taking it all in. Blue, clear earth sky. Humanity, she supposed. Then he gave them one last smile. Aeryn took his hand and they started toward John’s ship.

 

***

 

 

 

When they got back to the gateroom, they found their gear scattered at the base of the ramp. Vala grabbed her back pack, sorted through it. Everything in its place.

She glanced over her shoulder, saw that dreadful Mr. Woolsey standing alongside General O’Neill in the control room. Colonel Carter sat next to Chief Harriman, her eyes intent on the screens in front of her.

Her gaze fell on Crichton’s family all gathered in the control room behind the general. Mrs Crichton had her arm around her grandson, and a smile on her face.

Vala sniffled a little.

“Hey.” Daniel nudged her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “It’s just. John’s mother. She looks—”

Daniel glanced back. “Happy and alive. It’s a good place to be.”

This world’s Mitchell counted off their gear, made sure they only had what they’d brought with them.

“Well,” he said. “That was fun. Let’s not do it again.” He shook hands all around, stopped at Daniel. “Good luck, Jackson.”

“Keep in mind what I said.”

Mitchell nodded. “We’ll see what we’ll see. Are you guys ready? Sam?”

Both women said “yes,” then Sam glanced up at the control room.

“Thor has them on a trajectory toward the wormhole,” Colonel Carter said. “If Thor’s and our calculations are correct, we’ve got to get this going right now.”

Sam nodded to the crowd in the control room. The alert blared through the gate room as the address for P3X9726 fell into place on the Stargate .

 

***

 

“What did you see, Aeryn? When you saw Einstein.”

They were breaking Earth’s atmosphere. There was Prometheus, vigilant to any failure of this fragile plan. Debris he didn’t recognize floated past them. None of it would have been readily identified as a Scarran warship.

Ahkna dead. Scorpius alive. Would that make any difference?

“I told you. And I don’t think it even matters now.”

“What did he tell you.”

“Before, when you went through the wormhole and we came after you in Lo’La. I sensed it—’wait for it’, I said. But maybe I just imagined it.”

“That’s it. Nothing more.”

“Drowning, dying. Zhaan. ’Time,’ he told me. ‘You’re lost.’ My…my locket..” She opened her eyes, shook her head. “Pointless images. Nothing that helps.”

The device dragged behind them. Timing, timing…How would the extra weight alter his original calculations? Had they made allowances for that?

“But you saw him. He’s real.”

“John.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Fear is the answer. Can’t screw this up. Fear is always the answer.”

“Focus.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m here. We’re going to be all right.”

“My mom is alive, Aeryn. We could live here…It’s not too late to turn back—”

“We don’t belong here. Daniel, Carter—none of them do. D’Argo and the rest are waiting. We have to make it right.”

“Maybe we did—”

“No. Not in this place.”

“Einstein said this is where I can cause the most damage. He was right.”

 _Time, time time….time heals all wounds_. He closed his eyes, saw his mother in front of him, holding his hands, her face alight with joy. He was alive. He was going to be a dad. He was leaving her…

 _You got to say good bye this time_ , Vala had told him. A second chance…

_The wormhole was a second chance. It danced in front of him as his head thrummed with its rhythm._

_Earth. Dad. Pizza. Sex. Cold beer. Fast cars. Sex. Aeryn._

_Love_

_Focus, Johnny boy._

_The iceman cometh, standing there on the other side of the wormhole. His hands are folded in front of him, the patient instructor._

_Time._

_Harvey’s trying to weasel his way out, humming “You Can’t Always Get What you want…”_

_But sometimes you get what you need._

He turned to her, raised his palm. She blinked then nodded in remembrance, and raised hers to meet it.

“We don’t say good-bye." He wove his fingers between hers. “I love you.”

A half smile formed on her face. “I love you too. Now take us home, John.”

He nodded, turned, and stared down the undulating blue demon in front of him. In it, millions of possibilities. He needed to only find one.

He hit the switch for Carter’s device. The module pushed out from under him, threw him back in the seat.

_Aeryn. Love. Home. Home. Love. Aeryn. Home._

_Home._

 

***

 

“John? John!” Panic wormed in her gut, threatened to snake through her body.

He slumped in the chair, dangerously close to the module’s controls. She grabbed his coveralls, pulled him back then pinned him in place with her elbow. Stretched just enough that the knuckles of her other hand were able to close around the control.

“Come on, come on, come on.” The controls fought her as the module spun through the wormhole, more dip and motion than the flight simulators had ever thrown at her.

_A chair plunging into cold waters. The maw of the wormhole, wanting to grind them into nothing, pressed against time—_

“John!” she screamed in his ear. “Wake up!”

Nothing.

_The black eyed man taunting her—all the possibilities clutching at her like Scarran torture, showing her eventualities and speculation. John’s dying, his own Earth on fire, her child dead—_

The wormhole snapped shut behind them. The module spun, sending both of them out of their seats then slamming them back in.

She glanced at John; breathed in unison with him. He was alive. Then his head lolled back, eyes half open and staring.

“Oh, no no no…John. John!” _Not now, not now…_

Where the frell was Moya?

“Aeryn!” D’Argo’s voice was on the comms. “Aeryn, are you there?”

“Here. Yes.”

“I’m bringing you in.”

She powered down. Ran her hands over John’s face, to his chest where his heart beat steadily, and waited.

 

 

***

 

 

The gate spat them out in a tumble of guns and gear. Vala rolled, tried to take the fall as best she could, but the rest of the team was stumbling out, half standing, half falling all around her.

She landed with a dizzying thud. They'd gotten to P3X9726 and had immediately dialed out, not waiting to see if the wormhole was still there or not. If there was ever a definition of a scrapped mission, this was certainly it.

Vala felt a weight on her back, and a hand on her arm. The back pack was secured to her, still heavy as it was when they’d left home. Daniel was right—it was too heavy, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that.

Daniel. She glanced down at the hand on her arm, then up its length until she met his eyes. He smiled, then laughed as he pulled her to her feet. She heard another chuckle, this time from Teal’c. Mitchell was doubled over, laughing so hard he could hardly stand. Sam joined in until Vala was left wondering if she’d come through looking like an inside out alien bovine.

“What?” she demanded.

“We…we’re here!” Daniel hugged her then pulled away, still smiling. “It’s you, it’s me, it’s all of us.

“Colonel Mitchell!” A familiar voice filled the room. “What is so damnably funny? And where in Sam Hill have you been? You never reported in at P3X9726. We lost all contact.”

Mitchell stifled his laughter, glanced over the guns pointed at them. “P3X9726…” He rubbed his ear like he was trying to clear out his hearing. “You all can stand down,” he said.

She looked up, saw General Landry, hands at his sides and his expression a combination of worry and annoyance. He looked like someone’s TV dad.

“Do what the man says,” Landry said.

“The wormhole,” Carter stepped forward. “Chief Harriman, what happened to the wormhole?”

“Wormhole?”

“Anomaly,” she corrected herself “The one on P3X9726?”

He turned to the screen, then to the general then back to all of them in the gateroom. “It’s gone, sirs. Gone.”

“That son of a bitch did it,” Mitchell said. “I’ll be damned.”

“Colonel, what are you talking about?” Landry said.

“Sir, we have quite the story to tell you,” Carter said.

“I think it might even beat Teal’c’s fifty year secret,” Mitchell added. “Am I right?”

Teal’c smiled, dipped his head, but said nothing.

“I’m looking forward to your full report. But first, get some chow and a shower. I think you all probably need it.” He paused, smiled. “I’m glad you’re back safe. Carry on.” The general patted Harriman on the shoulder and exited the control room.

Vala stared up at the control room where business went on as usual. John Crichton was gone, hopefully back to the place he wanted to go. Somewhere his mother had a grandchild she wouldn’t get to know.

“Are you okay?” Daniel put his arm around her. “Vala?”

“It’s just…those things all happened, right? I didn’t dream it, we didn’t turn back the clock—”

He reached out, swept her hair behind her ear. “No. You didn’t dream it. They’re going to be okay, Vala. We’re here. We’re in one piece.”

“John? Aeryn? You really think they’re okay?”

Daniel pulled away from her. Set his back pack down then rummaged through it until he came up with the sheaf of paper he’d brought with him. “Well. I can’t say for sure.” He raised it up in front of him with a smile. “But maybe one day we’ll find out.”

 

***

 

_“Time.”_

_His mother, his sisters, dad, DK…_

_Pilot securely in his den, arms moving with ease over the controls._

_People he’d just met, barely knew—a guy who looked like him (two guys?), a woman who’d kneed him in the crotch and looked like Aeryn. A blond genius…body switching and killing Scarrans—_

_Mom’s ring on Aeryn’s finger…_

_A baby. We’re having a baby._

_Harvey. Einstein. A fork in the road._

_Harvey : You owe Scorpius._

_Einstein: You averted disaster. This time. There should not be a next._

_“Get out the frell out of my head.”_

_He elbows himself to a sitting position. He’s on a beach. Smooth sands, and a bright blue, cloudless sky. No buildings, no Statue of Liberty, no Planet of the Apes scenarios._

_Arnessk. He shakes his head hard, once, dismissing the memory. Then there’s a hand on his, calming, firm. Her voice in his ear._

_“John. John, please wake up. Please. Please. We’re not finished.”_

_Her turns, sees Aeryn beside him…_

 

***

 

He blinked against the cloudless blue sky. The sun warmed his skin; he wasn’t wearing much more than gym shorts and a t-shirt. Body heavy, boneless. He felt like he’d had the the longest post picnic nap in history.

“Where. The hell. Am I?” Was that his voice? Hoarse, weak, and vaguely annoyed.

“John!” Aeryn’s face came into focus over his, her hair falling over it and tickling his nose. “John! You’re awake.”

_Awake? Like that’s a thing?_

He flexed his fingers, heard the crack of knuckles. Raised his hand up and stroked her hair. “Aeryn? What? Where?”

She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him to a sitting position. “We’re on Arnessk.”

“What? Arnessk…” Where they’d agreed to go if Moya wasn’t there to meet them… “Pilot? Moya?”

“They’re alive. We left them on the water planet to continue his healing. Flying right now was too much.”

“Did we do it?"

She nodded.  "You did."

He thought back. Remembered her body over his… “ _We_ did it. We’re alive.” He tried to anchor himself, couldn’t. “How long have I been out?”

She bit her lip. “Thirty solar days. I…I had D’Argo bring you out here every day. I wanted you to see the sun when you woke up.”

“The radiant Aeryn Sun.” He fell back, pulled her on top of him. “That’s all I need.” He kissed her, realized she wasn’t wearing much more than he was. That would make it a lot easier—

“Disgusting!” Rygel slid toward him, followed by D’Argo, Stark, and Chiana. “I should have guessed that would be the first thing on your mind, Crichton.”

“Sparky! Great timing, kids.”

Aeryn pushed away from him, sat up. “He’s awake.”

“Apparently.” D’Argo looked him up and down, smiled. “ And finally.”

“D. What…what’s going on out there?” He took each of them in, Rygel, Stark. D’Argo. Chiana. His friends. His family.

“There’ll be time for that later. Chiana?”

She stumbled forward, blinking against the sun.

“Chi? Your eyes.”

She nodded, smiled. Blinked again. Her black eyes were a luminescent blue. “New eyes,” she said. “We found a diagnosan…” She held out her hands. In them, was a small, gold pouch. She handed it to D’Argo who handed it to John.

“I think there was something about a ring,” he said. “At least, that’s what someone told me.” He glanced at Rygel.

“Okay.” John held up his hands. “Wait. I am missing thirty days here. Aeryn?”

“When we exited the wormhole, you were unconscious. D’Argo towed us in with Lo’la. We came here.”

“That’s all.” Because there was always more.

“John,” D’Argo said. “The Scarrans are trying to regroup but they lost a lot of their troops on the other side of the wormhole—”

It hadn’t been a dream. He’d seen his mother, reconciled his gains and losses. His parents’ home had a defense.

He grabbed Aeryn’s hand. “Carter, Vala…that all happened.”

She nodded. “Daniel thought your notebook might have keys to their gate. Jool and her people haven’t found anything like what we described.”

“With luck, they won’t. No version of Earth needs this. What about Scorpius?”

They glanced at one another.

“Aeryn? What about Scorpius.”

“I”m sorry, John. He wouldn’t leave until he talked to you again.”

“Right. Of course not.” He reached up. Both Aeryn and D’Argo grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to his feet. He stood shakily until Aeryn put her arm around him.

“I need my clothes. You can take them off me later. We’re picking up where we left off.”

 

 

***

 

 

Scorpius greeted him from the steps of his Marauder, Sikozu at his side.

“I’m up,” John said. “You can go now.”

“This isn’t over, John. The Scarrans will regroup—”

“Broken record, Scorpy. Go away.” He turned to Sikozu. “You can stay, Sputnik. You don’t have to go with him. The Scarrans are going to lose, your people freed—”

She shook her head slowly. There was a glimpse of the girl he’d first met, in over her head, more bark than bite, the girl who saved their lives more than once. He didn’t realize he wanted her to stay so badly.

“Stay,” Aeryn said. “John wouldn’t have survived this without your knowledge. You helped the humans, us…”

“Scorpius is right.” She held her arms wide, taking in the vistas, the ocean, rocks, cliffs, trees. “This is a fool’s paradise, Crichton. But everyone deserves a calm before the storm.”

John nodded his head toward Sikozu. “She said you wanted peace, Scorpy. Ahkna’s dead. Work that to your advantage and leave me the hell alone.”

Scorpius sighed. “Enjoy yourself for the moment, John. We will meet again.” He walked into the Marauder.

Sikozu followed him then stopped, glanced back at John with a wistful smile. “Good fortune to you, John Crichton. I hope you’re right. We should never have to meet again.”

The door closed. He turned to Aeryn. She was staring up at the Marauder, thoughtful.

“You think they’re right,” he said. “That this isn’t over.”

She turned to him. Reached down and took his hand, raised it her lips and kissed it. “It’s always something. Right now, we need to make up for lost time.”

 

***

 

He lies on the beach, arms stretched out as the sun’s heat radiates against their bare skin. His arm tucked under her as she rolls toward him.

Nothing ahead of him. Not today. Like a lazy Sunday afternoon. No Scorpius, no Scarrans. Earth. His mother, sisters. Dad…he smiles at the memories. Grateful he has new, good ones to reconcile that part of the past that needed to be laid to rest.

“John.” Aeryn’s fingers graze his bare skin.

 _A fool’s paradise_. He can be a fool for a day.

He turns to her, kisses her. Pulls away and props himself up on his elbow, then reaches under the blanket where he’d left it. His mother’s ring.

He holds it up, lets the sun catch the points of the diamond. Brings it down and takes her hand in his a they lie alongside each other.

“Your mother’s,” she says.

“Will you marry me, Aeryn Sun?” No preamble, no speeches. She is his, he is hers.

She nods. Her smile lights her up, transforms her from the woman he knows to the little girl she never was. Innocence, something he only sees when she smiles like that. Her world is entrusted in his hands.

In her smile, a peace and perfection that settles him.

_I shouldn’t be here._

_This is exactly where you should be._

He feels like he’s back from the dead.

He slips the ring over her finger, kisses her hand, her mouth…the rest of her as they melt into each other.

 

END

 


End file.
